


Talk to him, for fuck's sake!

by asamandra



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, M/M, Pining, and there's a mysterious job, they both need the help from their friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 43,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a massive crush on Steve, Steve has a massive crush on Clint. Sounds easy? It isn't. Because both think the other one is straight...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. Straight as an arrow?

“Really, Barton?” Tony asked. Of course he'd seen it. “Rogers? Mr. Straight as an arrow?” 

“Huh?” Clint turned and saw Tony smirk. “Fuck you, Stark.” He grabbed his fork and forcefully impaled the broccoli on his plate.

“Come on, there are so many attractive girls and guys out there and you're lusting after him?” Tony couldn't stay quiet.

“But you have to admit he has a fine ass.” Pepper threw in and Tony giggled when Clint blushed violently.

“Hmm... I usually don't stare at other guy's asses.” Tony leaned back and looked at Bucky who just chuckled. 

“Pep is right, Tony.” Natasha shrugged. “I guess there's no girl or guy here who never stared at his ass.” And when she saw Tony open his mouth again, she added, “Except of you, of course.” 

“So, Rogers is your type?” Pepper grinned at Clint and he decided to ignore all of them and concentrate on the food on his plate.

“What do you think?” Natasha asked when someone arrived at their table and Clint heard Bruce's voice.

“What do I think about what?”

“Roger's ass.” Pepper said and Bruce tilted his head. 

“If I were into guys... I think it's a nice one.” He shrugged and Thor chuckled beside him.

“Why are you talking about Steve's butt?” The blonde asked, still grinning.

“Apparently our dear Barton here lusts after him.” Tony smirked and Clint could see his lips twitch in amusement.

“Fuck you, Stark. Okay... just... fuck you.” He threw his fork onto his plate, grabbed his rucksack and rose.

“Come on, Clint. Stay.” Nat said now and reached for his arm.

“Yeah, well... this paper about Heron's formula doesn't writes itself.” He grumbled and with a last glance in Steve's direction he left the cafeteria.


	2. Don't you think you should try to talk to him?

When Steve entered the cafeteria he spotted Clint immediately. He sat between Natasha and Bruce and opposite of Tony Stark. Like usual. That Potts girl, Stark's girlfriend, was there, too. Steve sighed and then he saw Phil in the back, together with Maria and Betty. He took his food and went over to them. 

“Hey Phil, can I...” he asked and Phil smiled and nodded.

“Sure.”

With another glance in Barton's direction he sat down. Phil who'd seen his look smiled once again.

“Don't you think you should try to talk to him?” He asked and cocked his head.

“What? Barton? No. No way.” 

That moment he could see Tony and Pepper look in his direction and then they said something and they laughed.

“Asshole.” Maria muttered. She was never Stark's biggest fan and she was still pissed that he threw her out after the one date she had with him but right at the moment she was just furious because of Steve.

“It's okay.” Steve said and looked down at his plate.

“No, it's not okay.” Betty was furious as well.

“You don't know what they are talking about. Maybe it's harmless.” Steve shrugged but the cramp in his stomach said it was everything but okay. Why the heck had he had to fall for Clint Barton of all people. He was one of Stark's buddies and apparently together with Natasha. And despite the jealous beast that sat in his intestines and grumbled violently every time he saw the two together he had to admit that they were a cute couple.

Steve looked up just to see Barton leave the table and put his rucksack on his back. His shirt slid up slightly and Steve got a glimpse of tanned skin and he felt his breath speed up. 

“Talk to him.” Phil said once again and Steve just shook his head, picked some noodles up and shoved them in his mouth.


	3. I know you're just brooding

Clint sat in the room he shared with Bruce on his bed, his laptop on his knees and books scattered around him but he couldn't concentrate. Heron's formula. The fuck with it, he sighed and closed the laptop. But when he heard someone shove a key into the lock he grabbed the computer again, opened it and pretended to work. 

“I know you're just brooding.” Bruce said when he entered and smirked and Clint once again threw the laptop away.

“I don't know what to do, Bruce.” He whined. “I just... I can't just go to him and ask him if he maybe is interested in guys and if he wants to go on a date with me.” He placed his forehead on his knees and his hands on the back of his head.

“Why not?” Bruce shrugged and Clint snorted and looked up at him.

“Because it doesn't work this way. And he's always together with this Coulson guy or with Carter.”

“You think he's together with Peggy Carter?” Bruce lifted an eyebrow and flopped down on his bunk.

“I don't know. Maybe he just screws her.” 

“Nah. He doesn't seem to be that kind of guy.” 

“And then, since I'm befriended with Tony and he apparently dislikes Tony he doesn't want to even be near me.” Clint wrapped his arm around his legs. 

“Oh, by the way, Natasha asked me to give you this,” Bruce handed Clint a sheet of paper. Clint read it, then tilted his head to the side and glared at his roommate.

“What's that?” he asked. 

“Well, it's a job offer...” 

“Yes, I can read.” Clint closed all his books angrily and rose. 

“I guess, she wants to tell you, that you should try to get that job.” Bruce shrugged, pulled out his desk chair and sat down.

“It's... they are searching nude models for the art classes... is she...” Clint started but then Bruce turned around and smirked.

“Yes, she also said something about you being broke and having a natural lack of shame...” 

Clint blushed slightly. Nat was the only one who knew about his other side job. One person needs to know, just in case something happens. 

“It's not a lack of shame when there isn't anything to be ashamed of,” he muttered and grabbed his stuff. He had class in twenty minutes and wanted to stop at the library, he needed another book about numerical stability. 

“Fortunately humility is your greatest strength.” Bruce chuckled and started his laptop.


	4. How often do you need me?

He had called the guy from the art class and wanted to meet him this afternoon. Right after his course he went back to the library to work there. It was quiet and he had most of the books he needed within reach. He just leaned back for a few seconds with closed eyes when he heard a familiar voice. Steve. Clint opened one of his eyes and saw him, together with Peggy as usual. He couldn't understand what they were talking about but apparently Steve didn't agree with her. She finally threw her hands in the air and turned on her heel. Steve really seemed abashed. But then he looked up and their eyes met for a second. But it was as if time stopped right now. Clint saw the blueness of his eyes and the long lashes and he wanted nothing more than to go over to him and kiss him. But then Steve blushed and left the library hastily.

“Hey!” 

“What?” He turned.

“Where have you been? You seemed to be lost in thought.” A guy stood there and looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Clint asked again.

“I've asked if you are Barton.” The guy repeated and Clint looked him over. He was tall and thin, had long, brown hair and glasses and a scruffy goatee.

“Yes. That's me. And you are?” Clint asked and the guy smiled. 

“Johnny. Baker. Johnny Baker. We've talked about the job.” 

“Ah, okay.” Clint nodded at the chair opposite of him with his chin and Johnny sat down. 

“I'm Professor Greary's assistant. So, you still interested in the job?” 

“Sure. What do I have to do?” He cocked his head.

“Yeah, well. We're looking for nude models for the art classes.” 

“That much I figured out myself.” Clint snorted and lifted one brow.

“You don't have too much to do. You come, pose and after class you can go.” 

“And how often do you need me?” 

“This semester twice a week.” The guy leaned back and eyed Clint up. 

“How much?” Clint asked and raised his brow again.

“A Benjamin a week.” 

“Yeah, sounds acceptable.” Clint nodded. That are four hundreds a month. Enough for a living and he could use the money from his other job to fund his studies. 

“And about the part where you have to be naked...” Johnny started once again but Clint just smirked.

“It may surprise you but I understood the term nude. You here to check out what you get?” Clint asked directly and now Johnny blushed.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Professor Greary wants me to take pictures if that's okay.” 

“Sure, why not?” Clint shrugged and closed his books, shut down his laptop and put all his stuff into his rucksack. 

“We can go to the studio.” Johnny suggested and Clint felt eyed up once again.

“Lead the way.” He said and smiled. He didn't see Peggy Carter stare at them.


	5. You're so going to die this semester.

Steve sat in his favorite cafe Friday morning, a cup of coffee in front of him and his sketchbook on his knees and drawing.

“Hey, Steve. Good morning.” Peggy said and Steve placed his hand over the drawing. 

“Uhm... hey. Good morning.” She sat down and Steve blushed. 

“Sorry about yesterday. I know it's not my business and... I shouldn't have pressed you. Sorry. Friends?” She said and looked sheepishly at him and Steve couldn't be mad at her. 

“Yes, okay. Accepted.” He smiled. 

“So, what are you doing?” Peggy asked and waited for the waiter to get her favorite drug, caffeine. 

“We're starting with nude drawing and... you know... I...” Steve blushed again and Peggy could only shake her head. 

“Oh my, Steve. You're so going to die this semester.” She ordered coffee and fruit salad when the waiter finally arrived.

“I know,” he replied and grinned lopsided. 

“Steve...” Peggy started a few seconds later, when she had her coffee and took her first sip. “I know, I promised not to bug you anymore... but...”

“If it's about Barton...”

“Yes... and no...” 

“Peggy, please. I know what I can't have.” Steve took his own cup and emptied it with two big gulps.

“I know that you know Johnny Baker. He's in your class,” she said and picked up some grapes with her fork and chewed. 

“Yes. What about him?” 

“He... and Barton. They left the library together two days ago.” 

“So?” Steve swallowed. He knew about Baker's 'preferences'. 

“He left with a guy. And I saw them go to the studio where Professor Greary has class. What do you think...”

“No. No way.” Steve shook his head vehemently. 

“Steve,” Peggy tried again.

“No. Stop this. I...” 

“Maybe it's worth a try. Talk to him.” 

“Don't you think I haven't tried? He just stared at me, turned around and walked away. No, it's just... just... I don't know...”

“Puppy love?” Phil said and Steve startled. He turned around and stared furiously at the other guy. It was creepy how silent he could move.

“Jesus Christ! You up to kill me?” He asked and Phil lifted his hands apologetically but then he sat down beside Peggy.

“No, didn't want to startle you. Just saw you two and wanted to say hello but then I've heard you talk.” 

“Apparently his crush _is_ into guys.” Peggy grinned at Phil and he lifted a brow.

“Really? How do you know?” Phil asked and waved the waitress over to order coffee and a cream cheese bagel. 

“He left yesterday with Johnny Baker.” She winked and picked up a few blueberries. 

“That guy from his class? That guy who...” 

“ _He_ is still here and can hear you.” Steve huffed and closed his sketchbook and placed it behind his back on his chair.

“Steve. Maybe he was just as nervous as you when he turned around and fled?” Peggy stirred in her mug, licked the spoon clean and placed it on the saucer before she took a sip of her coffee.

“I don't know. Nervous doesn't seem to be an adequate adjective to describe Clint Barton. Cocky, sassy, confident...” 

“Handsome and with the wrong friends. I know.” Peggy finished his sentence. “But Steve...” She started but he interrupted her.

“Sorry, I have to go to class. I don't want to miss my premature death.” He winced slightly.

“It starts today?” Peggy's brows hit her hairline. 

“Yes, unfortunately.” He grabbed his sketchbook and it slipped open. Peggy could see the drawing and Steve blushed violently. 

“Oh Steve.” She shook her head. He had drawn the object of his unrequited love, Clint fucking Barton. Again.

“What starts today?” Phil asked when the other boy had left their table and the cafe hastily. 

“They start with nude drawing.” Peggy smirked and Phil choked on his coffee.

“He's so going to die.”


	6. Close your eyes if you are nervous

Clint was early at the studio and Baker let him in. He led him to Professor Greary's 'office', a separated nook with a curtain, and he finally met her in person. She was in her mid-sixties, small, thin, had short and bright red hair and wore a too red lipstick together with a robe-alike dress. 

“I have your contract, Mr. Barton,” she said, her voice dark and rich, and handed him a sheet of paper. He skimmed through it and then he took the pen she held out for him to sign it. 

“Okay, class starts in twenty minutes. Johnny will show you where you can undress and then arrange you for your first session. Any questions?”

“No,” he said and followed Johnny to a folding screen in the back of the studio. 

“Why do you have that?” he asked and placed his rucksack with the laptop behind it. “I mean, in a few minutes all of you guys see me in my birthday suit nevertheless.”

“Not all of the models have to undress completely.” Baker licked his lips in gleeful anticipation. Clint shrugged and stripped out of his t-shirt and Johnny's grin got a little bit broader. 

“Like what you see?” Clint huffed and lifted one brow. 

“Absolutely.” He grinned but moved back a bit when Clint slipped out of his shoes, opened his pants to step out of them. He hadn't bothered with boxers and now Johnny raised his brow. It was true, Clint was proud of his body and he liked to show it but Baker was a little bit too eager. 

“Can we start?” he asked and the other boy pointed at the middle of the studio, where an old fashioned armchair stood. 

“Okay, sit down, slouchy, a little bit more tilted. Good, one leg over the armrest, the other stretched out. Can you put one arm over your head and on the backrest? Good. The other hand over your stomach. Fine.” Johnny directed him in the position they wanted. It was not uncomfortable but he was sure the other guy touched him more than necessary. “Can you hold this position?” 

“Yes,” Clint said and then Baker fetched a silken scarf and placed it over his legs so that his flaccid cock was half covered. 

“Close your eyes if you are nervous. Then it seems as if you were asleep. Could be nice, too.” 

He heard a giggle from the door and looked over to see two pretty Asian girls looking at him, their sketchbooks in their hands and they both giggled with their hands over their mouths and pointed in his direction. He smiled and winked when he saw some more students arriving. And then he saw _him_. Of all the people it had to be Steve Rogers to come through the door. 

Clint swallowed. He hadn't seen him yet. Steve went to one of the easels and put his sketchbook down and then he looked up. Their eyes met and he stopped dead in his tracks. Clint could see him swallow as well. He stared for a few seconds before he sat down behind his easel and disappeared out of Clint's view. 

_Oh god, oh my god, I'm so going to kill Natasha_ , he thought and closed his eyes. If he didn't need the money he would've grabbed his stuff and left immediately. 

_Steve is here in this class and he looks at him_ , Clint gritted his teeth and then he felt something under the scarf. 

_Oh please, damn traitor, don't do that to me now. It's embarrassing enough that Steve has to look at you naked in front of all his fellow students, you don't have to get a boner_. 

He heard Professor Greary enter the studio and talk to the students but Clint didn't listen. He concentrated on holding the position and the most unerotic things in the world like his grandmother, David Hasselhoff, butterflies, yellow coated tonsils and other stuff. He recited prime numbers in his head and when this didn't work too well, his cock still was interested and twitched under the scarf, he thought about his paper about Heron's formula and finally, finally Professor Greary said they were done and he could leave. He rose, took the scarf to cover himself and then fled behind the folding screen. He could feel Steve's eyes on him but didn't dare to look back. He was dressed in an instant but waited, till all of the students had left before he came around the folding screen.

“You've done good, Mr. Barton,” she breathed when he eventually appeared again. “See you on Tuesday.”

Clint looked after her when she went to her office with flowing robes. He wasn't sure if he would come back. He really wasn't sure. But first of all he would go and kill Natasha. 

“Hey, you want to go for a drink?” Clint heard a voice behind him when he left the studio and turned to find one of the students, a pretty blonde girl with very short hair and stylish glasses, smiling at him. 

“Sorry, have to go to my other job this evening.” He shrugged apologetically. 

“Oh, okay. Rain check?” She smiled again that cute smile and cocked her head slightly. Clint licked his lips and ran his hand through his hair but then he saw Steve coming back to the studio and he finally nodded to get away.

“Yeah... yeah, I... I'd like that.” She took a pen and scribbled her phone number on his hand. “Call me,” she said when she was done and walked backwards, smiling and holding her right hand up like a phone receiver.

He looked at his hand, Becky, and the phone number and when he saw Steve only a few steps away he nodded casually in his direction, grabbed his rucksack and fled again.


	7. You mean you have seen him naked?

When he went into the cafeteria for lunch he was in a really bad mood. He fetched something to eat, meat of undefinable origin in a strange green color, rice, salad, a pear and a bottle of water, and went to an empty table.

He wasn't sure whom he pissed off in a last life that his current life was this fucked up. Thousands of students and Barton took the job as _nude!!_ model for _his_ class. And then he saw him flirt with Becky afterwards and apparently she asked him out and he accepted because she gave him her number. 

“If you don't stop glaring this furiously at the wall it will break down and we all die in here.” Peggy said and Steve turned to her only to find her together with Betty and both of them looked expectantly at him. When he didn't say anything they both sat down and placed their trays on the table opposite him. He just shoved food in his mouth and chewed furiously.

“Okay, what's wrong.” Betty lifted her brow and tapped with her finger on the table.

“Everything. Everything is wrong,” he finally gave in and stabbed violently a few lettuce leaves.

Both girls sighed and looked at each other.

“What has he done this time?” Peggy asked.

“Do you know how many students are here on this university?” He glared at her.

“No, not really. Plenty?” 

“Ha! Funny. But of all those students it has to be _him_ who got the job as our model this semester.” Betty choked on her food and started to cough.

“You mean... you have seen him... naked?” Peggy asked carefully. Steve shoved his tray aside and let his head drop onto the table. The muffled sound he made sounded like 'yes' but they both weren't sure.

“Steve, come on. Talk to us,” Betty said. When Steve lifted his head he could see her looking to the door and then back to Peggy and he turned around to see... Clint Barton. In company. The usual suspects. Stark, Potts, Banner, Romanov, Barnes, Odinson, Foster, Lewis.

He looked around and saw Steve, they locked eyes for a second but then Stark said something and he laughed and turned away. 

“I think I should try to find a new university. I can't stay here,” Steve whined and placed his head back on the table.

Betty shook her head and slapped the back of his head. “You ever tried to ask him out?” 

“No,” came the muffled response. “He goes on a date with Becky.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I've seen them and I've heard them talk. And the only reason why he went with Baker was that Johnny is Greary's assistant and they talked about the job.” He still mumbled onto the table surface. 

“What's wrong with him?” Another voice. Phil.

“He's seen his crush naked and now he's embarrassed. Oh, and he goes out with Becky.” 

“Steve?” Phil asked and he could hear two persons sit down. He looked up to see Jasper as well.

“No, not Steve. Barton.” 

“Becky? Oh my god. She's...” 

“Stop, Jasper. We all know how you think about her.” Phil said and smirked.

“But she really had sex with all of the guys here.” 

“No, not with all of them,” Steve mumbled and bit violently in his pear. 

“No need to twist the knife.” Jasper grumbled.

“So, about Barton naked...” Peggy started again and grinned at Steve and with bright red ears he shoved his sketchbook in her direction. 

“Holy mother of god,” Betty breathed. “Are those abs real or only your interpretation?” 

“They are real.” 

“Steven, you should definitely get your head out of your ass and...” Betty started but Steve interrupted her.

“Don't! Don't say it.” 

“Okay, I don't say that you should ask him. Or, and that's my advice, forget him if you can't manage to even talk to him,” she said and folded her hands on the table. Steve glared at her, grabbed his stuff and rose.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asked and looked up to him.

“Training. See you later.” With one last glance in Barton's direction - he just stole something from Romanov's plate and she tried to slap his hand but he was faster and already had it in his mouth when she said something and he laughed again - he left.

Betty, Peggy, Phil and Jasper watched Steve leave and they saw him look at Barton. And then, when Steve turned around they saw Barton look in Steve's direction and he had the same expression on his face as Steve. 

“We need to do something,” Peggy said and the other three agreed.


	8. You're Natasha. You know everything.

“I'm so going to kill her. She's dead, Bruce. Dead. I...” He threw the books he had in his rucksack onto his bed and stuffed others in.

“Come on, Clint. Calm down. I'm pretty sure she didn't know that Rogers is...” Bruce turned with his office chair around and folded his hands in his neck. Clint looked at him and lifted his brow.

“You know that I'm speaking about Natasha Romanov? She knows _everything_! She's... like a little spy.” 

“Don't you think you exaggerate a little bit?” Bruce smirked now.

“Nooo... no, no, no. Natasha... she really knows everything.” Clint went to his dresser and rummaged through one of the drawers before he shut it violently without taking anything out of it. “Fuck!” he cursed and ran his hands through his hair. “Bruce, I can't go back there. _He_ is there and... and he has seen me... you know.” 

Together they left their room and went out to go to the cafeteria. Clint took his rucksack with him, he had class right after and didn't want to have to go back. On their way to the cafeteria he saw a familiar red head and he quickened his pace. She was together with Tony and Pepper. 

“Nat!” he called when she was in hearing range and she stopped, smiling innocently at them.

“Hey, boys.” She winked and Clint grabbed her arm to pull her away.

“The fuck was that with the job?” He hissed and Nat lifted her brow.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said and someone who didn't know her as well as Clint did would've believed her.

“Rogers. He's in the art class.”

“In which art class? Wait... in the... holy shit!” Her eyes went wide.

“You really didn't know?” Clint's brows hit his hairline and he moved back a step.

“No... wait... you've thought I did this on purpose?”

“You're Natasha. You know _everything_.” 

“What? No. I only act like I know everything. I found the flier and thought you could need the money and... and maybe you could quit this other job.” 

“Tasha...” They had talked about his other job a few times but he didn't have a scholarship and no rich parents. He needed the job and the lot of money they paid.

“I know... it's just... I'm concerned, Clint. It's dangerous.” 

“Not more than other jobs,” Clint tried weakly. “So, you really didn't know that Rogers is in the art class?” 

“No, dammit! I've never expected him to be.. well... an _artist_. He's in the fucking football team.” 

“Come on, you two. I'm hungry!” Tony wailed and with a sigh Natasha turned around. 

When they entered the cafeteria Clint saw Steve together with his clique. That moment he looked up and their eyes locked. Just for a few seconds but it seemed to be longer and Clint felt this tiny flutter in his stomach.

“What do you think?” Tony suddenly asked and Clint turned his head. 

“Oh my, he's far, far away,” the older boy grinned.

“Ha, ha!” He said but then he added a fake laugh to fend Tony off. They grabbed their food and the rest of their _gang_ joined them on their usual table. He didn't dare to look in Steve's direction again, he would die of embarrassment. 

When he was done with his food he leaned back and listened to the usual gossip. Darcy, Pepper and Jane were well-informed sources if one was interested in the tattle. He let his eyes wander through the room and they stopped – as usual – at a certain artist/football-player in the back of the room. 

But then he heard his name and looked up.

“What?” he asked and looked over at Pepper. She smirked and pointed at his hand where she had spotted the number the girl... Becky?... had written on it. He looked down as well and the number was still visible. “Oh that, that's nothing,” he mumbled, wetted his finger and wiped it away. When Natasha lifted her brow and looked at him he grinned, snatched one of her fries and before she could slap his hand away he had it already in his mouth. 

“Oh you! My perpetual wrath shall plague you,” she threatened playfully and Clint laughed. 

“You shouldn't read so much Shakespeare, honey.” 

He turned his head a fraction and saw Steve look in his direction with a disappointed expression on his face and he blushed slightly. He followed the huge blonde leaving the cafeteria with his eyes and then closed them. _Damn!_

He looked at his watch, sighed theatrically and grabbed his stuff. When he left the cafeteria as well Bruce, Jane and Darcy changed glances. 

“You've seen it as well, haven't you?” Darcy whispered and Jane and Bruce nodded.

“Seen what?” Pepper asked and all three shook their heads. 

“Nothing, honey,” Darcy mocked and grinned at the older girl who lifted her brow. “Okay, have you ever realized how hot Maria is?” She pointed at the brunette who was on her way to Coulson and his little _gang_. 

“No, not really,” Pepper rolled her eyes and turned back to Tony. Only Natasha looked for a long moment in Darcy's direction before she turned back to her food.


	9. You followed him?

Steve was on his way back to his dorm from the afternoon training when he saw Romanov together with Barnes. They sat on the lawn, enjoyed the last rays of the sun and... and held hands! She cheated on him. With one of his friends. He stopped and stared for a long moment furiously at them. How could she cheat on him? On _him_ of all people! This... this is so unfair. This... this bitch had what he ever wanted and she's throwing it away. How could she do that to him? 

But then, he had flirted with Becky. Maybe they weren't... Steve stopped and looked once more in their direction just to see Clint walk over to them. He leaned down to talk to them for a short moment and then Romanov handed him keys. Car keys. And he didn't yell at them. He knew about them? Could it be? Could it be possible that... that Romanov and Barnes... 

Steve watched Clint walk away with the keys and a smile on his face. He knew. That meant... that meant he wasn't together with Romanov. But still... there was Becky. 

As if he felt Steve's glances Clint turned around and looked in his direction, just for a tiny moment. But then he ducked his head and climbed into the car. Romanov's car, a blood red 1967 Corvette Sting Ray Convertible, her pride and joy. Steve looked at his bag. He had his own car keys with him. Should he follow him? But what if he had a date? A date with Becky? No. He didn't want to see him with the biggest slut on their college. 

He turned to go to his dorm but then he stopped again when he heard the engine of the Corvette. 

“Fuck!” He cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His curiosity won.

With another curse on his lips Steve went to his old Ford Fairmont, threw his bag onto the backseat and started the engine. 

About twenty minutes later Clint stopped the car in front of a shady old building in one of the more dubious parts of the city, locked it and went to the door. There wasn't a sign over the door but it was obvious that it was some sort of club. Steve saw two bouncers in front of the door and a lot of cars and when Clint stepped up to the door he could see that it seemed is if he was a regular because the bouncers talked to him, laughed with him, patted his shoulder and let him in immediately. 

Steve looked down at himself. After the training he had showered and changed into jeans and a polo shirt. Clint's clothes weren't too different from his own, well, given that Clint never wore polo shirts. He waited for a few minutes in his car. 

Another car arrived, two men – dressed to the nines – left it and went to the door. And the bouncers let them in. A few minutes later the next car arrived, parked, a man went to the door and they let him in. Steve took a few deep breaths and then he left his car. He went up the three steps and stopped in front of the two bouncers. They scrutinized him with squinted eyes.

“Membership card?” One of them asked after a few seconds and raised his brow.

“Uhm... I don't have one. I wanted...” The guy on the left rolled his eyes. He took a clipboard.

“Do you have an invitation?” 

“Uhm... what?” Steve cocked his head. 

“Invitation.” The man said very slowly as if he talked to an idiot. “Do you have one?” 

“No. Uhm... no. How do I...” Steve swallowed nervously. 

“Then, kiddo, piss off.” The other man pointed at the stairs.

“Sir... please... I need to go in. You let a friend of me in just a few minutes ago and...” Steve stepped forward but then one of the two guys placed a hand on Steve's chest and stopped him again.

“No membership card, no invitation, no entrance. Go away now.” 

“Please, just...” Steve nearly pleaded but when the second bouncer stepped in his way as well he backed away a bit. “Please. You let him in as well and... and maybe he can invite me...” 

“Who is your friend?” The right one asked now and Steve licked over his lips.

“His... his name is Clint and...” 

“Barton?” The guy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Yes. That's him. He...” 

“He can't invite anyone. He works here.” The two men stepped back and apparently the conversation was over. 

“He... he works here?” Steve's brows hit his hairline and he stared at them disbelievingly. But the two men didn't answer anymore. They just glared at him and he finally stepped back. Another man came up the stairs behind him, passed him, showed the bouncers a blue card and they let him in without questions. 

Steve went back to his car and climbed behind the wheel but he didn't drive away, he stayed and waited. He watched the door and saw men arrive and leave and then it hit him. There were only men. No women. Most of the men who entered the house were older but they wore expensive clothes, a few of them, mostly younger, accompanied the older guys. A few times young men went to the door and the bouncers let them in without showing them a card. It seemed that they worked there as well. 

But after an hour waiting he finally started the engine of his car and drove back home. He parked the Ford but didn't get out. Instead he sat on the driver's seat and stared out the window. When he heard someone knock at the side window. He startled but then he saw Phil outside. 

He opened the door and looked up at the other boy. His expression was worried and he knitted his brows. “I've seen you arrive but you didn't get out. You okay?” he asked and Steve nodded, then he shook his head, then shrugged. Phil smiled, walked around the car and opened the passenger's door. 

“Okay, what's wrong?” he asked and sat down. 

“I...” Steve started, stopped and sighed. 

“Barton?” Phil cocked his head and after a few seconds Steve finally nodded.

“I followed him. He went to work.” 

“You followed him?” Phil's voice sounded strange and Steve sighed.

“Yeah.” 

“Steve... I don't know...” 

“I was just curious. Phil, there is this... I don't know... it seems like a... a club of some sorts. They had bouncers and membership cards and... and there were only men. No women.” 

“Okay.” 

“What...” he turned and faced the other boy for the first time since he climbed into the car. “What do you think does that mean?” 

“I have no idea,” Phil shrugged apologetically and pursed his lips. 

“It was really a strange location. They didn't have a sign or something. It was just a building and bouncers and guys with membership cards.” 

“Do you think it's something illegal?” Phil asked and Steve shook his head.

“I have no idea. Probably. It... it seemed dubious.” 

“And what are you going to do now? Do you want to ask him?” 

“What? No! No. He has to think I'm a crazy stalker. I... I guess I just need to get in. Somehow.” 

“Steve, I... I know I've told you to do something but don't you think this is a little bit too... I don't know... extreme?” Phil tried calmly and Steve turned to him, an odd expression on his face.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He frowned and Phil licked his lips.

“Honestly, Steve. You _followed_ him.” 

“God! This is...” Steve paled and wiped over his face and then he closed his eyes.

“Leave it be, Steve.” 

“Yeah. You... you're probably right.” 

“I know that I'm right. Come with me. You go to your room and to your bed and tomorrow we talk. Okay?” 

“Okay.”


	10. It wasn't the first time I lost.

“I've told you it's dangerous, for fuck's sake!” She glared at him and helped him into her car. Bucky had driven her to the club and Clint sat waiting at the stairs. He looked like a picture of misery with his shiner. When she went over to him he rose and winced and Natasha could see that he favored his left ankle. 

She slammed the door of her Corvette shut and nodded at Bucky who drove away before she rounded the car and climbed behind the wheel.

“It was an accident, okay? I... I fell unfortunately and... and lost.” He sighed and stared out of the window but he felt Natasha's eyes bore into the back of his head.

“You've lost.” It wasn't a question. “Clint, you...”

“Yes, I've lost and... you know. Can you... can you please drive me home? I want to get some ice on the ankle and it will be better by tomorrow. It's only sprained.” 

“You've lost, Clint! I know what that means. You...”

“Nat, please. Home. I want to cool my ankle and I want to sleep.” He turned to her and sighed again.

“Fine, be like that,” she snapped and started the car. 

“Nat, I'm sorry. I'm just... tired and... and my ankle hurts.” She threw an angry glare in his direction before she pressed her lips together and stepped on the gas.

“Nat,” Clint tried again but the redhead shook her head.

“No. I've told you it's dangerous. I've told you more than once. And now you're hurt and... god, Clint! I know what it means to lose in your _club_. You let them do that?”

“I've done it before. And it wasn't the first time I lost. It was just... this time it hurts, okay.” When she threw a strange glance in his direction he rolled his eyes and added, "The ankle, Nat. The ankle hurt." 

“When you're back in your room you let Bruce take a look.” It wasn't a suggestion but an order and Clint knew that she meant it.

“Yeah. Okay.” He finally nodded.

“So. You've lost. What happened?” She looked in his direction for a small second and he couldn't hold back the smile.

“That guy was huge. I mean, really huge even in comparison to Thor.” 

“Oh, fuck.” She gasped and Clint snorted.

“Yeah. In the true sense of the word.”


	11. You stalked him?

“You stalked him?” Peggy blurted out and Steve rolled his eyes but he sat down and took a sip of his coffee. It was Monday and Steve had managed to avoid all of them over the weekend but now he sat together with them for breakfast as usual.

“I didn't stalk him. God! I just...” 

“... followed him to his job. And that sounds a lot like stalking.” Maria shrugged and leaned back, her head tilted when Steve finally dropped his forehead onto the table with a lout thud. A few of the students around them looked in their direction.

“I'm a creepy stalker,” he whined and Betty patted his shoulder sympathetically. “That's pathetic. I'm a sad, pathetic loser.”

“No, Steve. You're just...” Betty said but then she interrupted herself, “Holy mother of god!” 

“What?” Steve's head snapped up and he looked around. “What's wrong?” Phil pointed with his chin to the door where just that moment Barton and Banner entered. Barton had a shiner and limped and Banner helped him to their table with an amused grin on his face while Barton glared at him.

“Oh god, he's hurt,” Steve breathed and Phil couldn't hold back a chuckle but he tried to hide it behind his hand. 

“Steven,” Peggy put one finger on Steve's cheek and turned his head around so that he had to look at her, “either you go over and talk to him right now or you better forget him.” 

“I...” Steve started but Peggy raised her finger and shushed him. 

“No. Talk to him for fuck's sake. You can't do that anymore. You've _stalked_ him. If you really want to know if he's into guys, if he's into you, then talk to him.” 

“She's right, Steve.” Maria added and Steve thudded his head against the table surface a few more times and this time Barton looked in their direction and furrowed his brows. Steve didn't see it, but Maria did and the worried expression spoke louder than words.

“Okay,” they finally heard his muffled voice. “Tomorrow.” When he had art class and Barton should be there as model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's just a short chapter but what can I say, real life sucks sometimes...


	12. You know Auguste Rodin's the Thinker?

It still hurt but he could limp without help – or crutch – into Professor Greary's studio. Baker was there and let him in. 

“What happened?” he asked and looked at Clint's ankle. He had covered the shiner with concealer but the ankle was still hurting.

“Had a slight variance with someone who asked too many questions,” Clint grumbled and glared at Johnny.

“Okay, okay. I get it. No need to get your panties in a twist.” He raised his hands in a defensive gesture and stepped back. “Can you stand?” 

“It hurts.” He admitted and Baker pursed his lips.

“Fuck. The Prof wanted you in a standing position today.” He folded his arms in front of his chest and Clint sighed. “I'm pretty sure she's pissed.” Baker looked smug right now and Clint rolled his eyes.

“But I guess you can convince her to want another position, right? What do you want?” 

“Oh, nothing. Right now at least. But you owe me.” Clint really didn't like his smirk. But he needed the job. And Baker knew that. 

“Fine,” he said as unworried as possible but Clint wasn't an idiot. He had seen Baker stare at him, he had a good idea what the other guy would want. But on the other hand, Baker also knew that he was befriended with Natasha and that she would help him to cut off his balls if he would get too brazen. With a lecherous grin Baker disappeared and Clint went behind the folding screen. He stepped out of his clothes and waited for Baker. About ten minutes later he came back and winked.

“Greary wasn't too excited,” he told him while he searched for a stool. Clint followed him slowly into the studio where Baker placed it in the middle of the easels. “You know Auguste Rodin's the Thinker?” he cocked his head and Clint nodded slowly and sat down. Baker fetched two books for his left foot and Clint placed his right elbow on the left knee, put his left arm loosely in front of the elbow and propped his chin in his right hand. 

“Yeah, that's good.” Johnny corrected the position with slight touches and then Clint stayed still. He closed his eyes when he heard the other students arrive and take their places behind their easels. When he opened his eyes for a second he saw Steve arrive, stare at him with a really strange expression but then, when he realized that he, Clint, looked back, he just sat down and opened his sketchbook. _Fuck!_ Clint cursed inwardly and closed his eyes again. And once again he concentrated on really unerotic things while he knew that all the guys and girls, that Steve looked at him right now. 

Clint startled slightly when he heard Professor Greary clap her hands and call it a day. He carefully rose and limped to his clothes and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Steve dawdle over his stuff. Apparently he waited for someone and when he saw Professor Greary walk over to him and starting to talk to him Clint sighed, stepped into his clothes, grabbed his rucksack and went to his own class. He didn't see Steve's desperate glance following him.

***

“Mr. Rogers,” Professor Greary said and came over to him just when he saw Clint disappear behind the folding screen. He had wanted to wait till Clint was dressed so that he could talk to him but now he was faced with his Professor.

_No, please! Not now!_ he groaned inwardly and followed the other boy with his eyes. But then he looked at the older woman, dressed as usual in one of her flowing, multicolored caftans and with too much and too red lipstick on her mouth. 

“I've noticed that you seem quite uncomfortable. And...” she looked at his still open sketchbook. “... distracted. I know it's not easy for young men to draw a naked man but I've always thought you can see the difference between...” 

“Professor,” Steve interrupted her. “I'm not... it's not...” he huffed and then he looked down at his hands. “It's not what you think, Professor. I... I'm not homophobic or... you know...” Steve was sure that he was beet red and he cursed his Irish origins for his fair skin color. Behind them Clint just came back, now fully dressed.

“Oh,” she said, and then she looked at him, realized that he had turned red and then it hit her. “Oh!” she repeated and Steve managed to blush even more. Clint left the studio and Steve cursed again inwardly. “Well, then... try to keep up your good work, Mr. Rogers. You know that you need this class for your grades.” 

“Yes, Professor Greary. I know that.” Steve sighed when he saw Clint disappear. Another missed chance.


	13. Why are you so grumpy?

“Barton, you look like shit.” Tony grinned when he arrived at their usual table in the cafeteria. Clint looked up from his food, chewed unimpressed, swallowed, put his fork down and flipped him the bird. “Aw, you wound me.” 

“Leave him alone, Stark.” Natasha glared at the brunette and Tony raised his hands in a defensive gesture but squeezed himself between Clint and Pepper, leaned over and kissed his girlfriend. 

“Okay, seriously. What happened?” Tony turned back and looked at him but couldn't hold back his curiosity and Clint, who had taken his fork up again, threw it onto his plate and turned around to Tony. 

“Yeah, well, there was this guy who asked me what happened and I broke his nose.” 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Tony grinned but patted Clint's shoulder. 

“Why are you so grumpy?” Thor asked now and leaned back on his chair and Clint huffed.

“I don't know,” he admitted finally and scratched his head. “Maybe because everything is so fucked up?” 

“Maybe it would be better if you finally get your head out of your ass and talk to him?” Natasha huffed and ignored Clint's glare. 

“She's right, Clint.” Thor shrugged and Clint put his head in his hands and groaned. 

“I know that! Do you think I don't know that?”

“Then why don't you talk to him eventually?” Pepper asked and Clint groaned again.

“I _can't_! Whenever I see him I... I can't get out a single word and then... then I run away.” 

“You?” Darcy stared at him. “You can't talk to a guy you like? You, Clint Barton, Mr. Confidence, can't talk to a guy you like?” 

“And what do I say to him?” Clint asked and Tony beside him rolled his eyes. 

“What about, 'Hey, Mr. Stiff-as-a-poker, I like your pretty ass. Do you want to go out with me?”

“Ha, ha, very funny Tony.” 

“No, seriously, Clint. Just ask him if he wants to go for a coffee with you. And even if he doesn't like you _that_ way, maybe you have a nice afternoon with him.” Tony shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Given that it's Rogers.” He added and Pepper rolled her eyes beside him. 

“And you think that will work?” Clint looked at him disbelievingly and Tony shrugged again. 

“Sometimes. It worked with Pepper,” he grinned then. 

“Seriously?” Clint cocked his head and Pepper nodded.

“Seriously.” 

“It worked with Melody,” Darcy threw in and Clint deliberated for a few seconds if he should mention that she dumped her two weeks after their first date.

“It worked with Thor,” Jane added and Thor smirked and nodded as well.

“What if he doesn't like coffee?” Clint sounded desperate. “What if I can't get out a word? What if I say something dumb?” 

“Barton, for fuck's sake!” Natasha spat and slapped the back of his head. 

“Ouch,” Clint complained and rubbed the spot she just had hit. “What was that for?” 

“That's for all your whining and you wallowing in self-pity. Holy mother of god, be a man and ask him out! I'm tired of hearing you bellyache about Rogers. Talk to him or leave it be! Jeez!” The redhead snapped, rose, grabbed Bucky at his arm and shoved him out of the cafeteria. Clint and the others sat at the table, stunned. 

“What the heck was that?” Jane asked carefully and watched Natasha leave with Bucky in tow.

“But she's right,” Clint mumbled and rose. “I'm a loser and now I go to my loser class and do loser stuff.” 

“Clint, come on, Clint,” Bruce tried to convince him to stay but he ignored them and left the cafeteria as well.

“Okay, seriously. We need to do something.” Darcy stated and all of them nodded slowly.


	14. Are you quoting Sheldon Cooper on me?

It was Thursday and Bruce just left class when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He startled slightly but when he turned around he saw a girl, one of the three who always were with Rogers, Betty Ross. 

“Hey,” she greeted him and he looked at her outstretched hand. And then he remembered his manners and shook it. 

“Hi,” he said and waited for her to explain why she had approached him. 

“Uhm, you're Bruce Banner, right?” 

“I'm pretty sure you know that,” Bruce couldn't hold back and in the next moment he wanted to slap himself on his head. But in his defense, she was cute. 

“Yeah,” she nodded and then she looked around. “Uhm, do you have a few minutes?” 

Bruce looked at his watch. He wanted to spend some time in the library to work on his paper but on the other hand, to spend the time with Betty Ross seemed far more pleasant right now. 

“Sure,” he smiled and she gestured in the general direction where he knew was one of the most popular coffee shops. 

“Uhm, you want to grab some coffee?” She asked and Bruce nodded. _See, Clint. It can be so easy,_ he thought and followed Betty to the coffee shop. They found an empty table and Bruce went to get them their drinks, Cappuccino for Betty, Chai for him. 

“I... I'm here to... I need to ask you a question.”

“Okay,” Bruce stirred half a spoon of sugar into his Chai and tried it before he looked up.

“I've asked around and... you share a room with Clint Barton, right?” Bruce got a bad feeling. She wanted to ask him about Clint. Pity. He really thought she was cute and he would've liked it to date her someday.

“Yes, that's right,” he answered and tried to not show his disappointment on his face. He wasn't sure if he managed it because Betty suddenly frowned but then she shook her head, took a sip of her Cappuccino and grimaced. Apparently it was still too hot.

“I... Don't get me wrong... is he gay?” 

Bruce looked at her for a long moment. Of course she wasn't interested in him. Why would she when there was Clint Barton? Bruce sighed and then he shook his head. There was no sense in hiding it.

“No, he's not.” And then something really strange happened. She seemed disappointed. Bruce furrowed his brows and cocked his head questioningly. Did she just mumble 'pity'?

“Excuse me?” he asked and she looked up. 

“Sorry, I...” she leaned back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Guess I should explain myself.” Bruce nodded slowly.

“A... I'm not asking because of me. A friend of me has sort of a crush and doesn't dare to ask and so I decided I'll ask you, as his roommate.” 

“A friend of you,” Bruce nodded. The most lame excuse ever. _I don't want to know but a friend of me._

“Yeah, a friend of me. He's kinda shy and...”

“He?” Bruce asked and then it hit him. “Is _he_ by chance Steve Rogers?” 

“Wha... y-yes, that's him. How do you...” she started but interrupted herself when Bruce threw his head back laughing. 

“Clint is not gay, he's bisexual. And believe me when I tell you that he has an immense crush on Rogers himself.” 

“Really?” Her eyes lit up and a smile appeared and Bruce shifted uncomfortable on his chair. That smile was so cute.

“Do you know how often I had to listen to his whining that he can't have Rogers lately?” He rolled his eyes and Betty laughed and Bruce's mouth got dry. 

“And all the explanations why Barton is so perfect and that it's unfair that he's together with Romanov.” 

“They've been together actually. But only for a few weeks. They are still best friends but they didn't work out as a couple.” Bruce shrugged and Betty raised her brows.

“Okay, that makes all of this easier than expected. We need to get them together. Barton and Steve.” 

“Yeah,” Bruce nodded. “Most urgently.” 

“Do we tell them? Or...” 

“... set them up in a blind date?” Bruce finished the sentence and Betty stared at him, stunned.

“What about you? Are you currently involved in a sexual relationship?” She asked and smirked.

“No.” Bruce shook his head.

“Would you like to be?” And now Bruce chuckled.

“Are you quoting [Sheldon Cooper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vII68LSluUc) on me?” 

“Does it work?” Betty asked and smiled and something fluttered in his stomach.

“Maybe?” Bruce leaned back and cocked his head. 

“So? Would you like to?” She repeated and Bruce couldn't hold back a happy grin. 

“What about something like... I don't know... dinner or cinema first?”

“Yeah. I'd love to.” She smiled. “So, what about the Barton-Rogers situation?” 

“Blind date you said?” Bruce asked and emptied his mug. 

“Yeah. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?”

“Absolutely.”


	15. Mathematicians do understand words.

Clint managed to avoid the others for the rest of the week. He didn't go to the cafeteria to eat, he ate in his spare time in one of the cafes around the campus or he bought a sandwich and sat down somewhere in the sun. His ankle didn't hurt anymore and so he was sure that he could go to the club this evening. But now he had to go to his other job. Now he had to face Steve again. He sat on a bench in the small park on campus and stared at his hands. He should talk to Steve. He really should. Or he should take Natasha's advice and forget him. But when he thought about him, about his blue, blue eyes, this incredible cute smile that changed his whole appearance and on top of all this a dreamlike body... no, he couldn't forget him. That meant for him to man up and talk to him.

With a sigh he rose and went to Prof Greary's studio and nearly forgot his rucksack but when he turned he saw a few students walking over to the studio as well. And Steve was one of them. It wasn't his usual entourage. Most of them were in the art class and one of the girls was glued to his side and talked to him while Steve nodded and gestured while answering. 

Clint watched him for a very long moment but Steve didn't look in his direction. But when he turned to walk to the studio he missed the longing glance from Steve who finally spotted him.

Baker awaited him and followed him behind the folding screen. 

“How's your ankle?” he asked and leaned against a pillar, his arms folded in front of his chest while Clint put his rucksack onto a chair and started to undress. He slipped out of his shoes and then removed the socks.

“It's okay. I can stand.” Clint folded his jeans and placed them on his rucksack. As usual he didn't wear boxers and Baker smirked again lecherous. Clint folded his shirt and put it onto his jeans and then he raised his brow. 

“Can we go?” 

“Sure,” Baker pushed himself off of the pillar and strolled into the middle of the studio where the easels were in a half circle. He had placed a small platform beside another pillar and gestured for Clint to step on it. 

“Okay, one hand against the pillar and cross your feet. You have to appear casual.” Clint followed his instructions and Johnny shoved him in position but once again he touched him far more than necessary. 

“Hey, looksies, no feelsies!” He glared at the other guy and Johnny raised his hands in a defensive gesture. 

“No need to get your panties in a twist,” he said and chuckled. “But it's my job to get you in position and... I can use a stick the next time.” 

“Ha ha, very funny. You can _say_ what you want me to do. I have ears, you know? And contrary to popular belief, mathematicians do understand words.” Clint grumbled and let himself be shoved in the position Professor Greary wanted. He really looked relaxed the way he leaned against the pillar but he knew that he had to think of the most unerotic things and definitely not about a certain blond guy the whole time or this was going to be embarrassing. And right on cue said blond guy came in, looked at him, blushed and hid behind his easel. Inwardly Clint sighed but then he saw the girl, Steve had talked to earlier and she took the seat beside him, leaned over to him and said something. And the way Steve smiled at her was way too... way too _wrong_ for Clint's peace of mind. But of course would a good looking guy like Steve have more than one girl interested in him. 

“Don't look so angry, Mr. Barton. You have to appear relaxed,” Professor Greary murmured when she passed him. 

“Sorry,” Clint mumbled back and changed his _resting face_ into something more _unangry_. He tried to look at someone else and not at Steve and the other girl but his eyes trailed back to him and the girl every so often.

“Mr. Barton.” Professor Greary reprimanded him again and Clint closed his eyes for a second before he started to stare at one of the two Asian girls and he realized that after a few more minutes the poor girl felt so uncomfortable that she didn't dare to look in his direction anymore.

“Mr. Barton, I want to see you in my office after class,” Greary hissed this time and Clint swallowed hard. So fast he had never forfeited a job before. 

He managed to stay still and unmovable till end of class, stared at another pillar and definitely _not_ at Steve. But as soon as Professor Greary called it a day he left to get dressed and then went to her office. 

“I'm sorry, Professor...” he started as soon as she had called him into her nook but she raised a hand and stopped him. 

“I need you to be concentrated, Mr. Barton. My students try to draw you and you can't change your facial expression every five minutes.” 

“I understand, Professor.” He tried to look rueful and Greary rolled her eyes slightly. 

“Try to be more concentrated the next time.” She turned around but Clint needed to ask the question. 

“So, there will be a next time?” He tilted his head slightly and Professor Grearly nodded.

“Yes. But like I said, try to be more concentrated.” This time she turned around and Clint was dismissed. Okay, job saved. Now... but when he entered the studio it was empty safe for Johnny Baker. With a sigh he left as well.


	16. Follow me, I'll show you.

“It must be jinxed.” Steve paced his room. “Since I try talk to him he's either nowhere to be found or someone prevents it.” Phil, who sat at Steve's desk chair, rolled his eyes, rose and stopped him. 

“Steve, sit down.” He pressed the bigger guy onto his chair and towered over him. “Calm down. Okay?” 

“But Phil. I... I know now what I have to say and...” 

“You'll get your chance.” 

“Wait!” Steve suddenly jumped up and stared at Phil. “It's Friday!” He looked at his watch. It was around the same time he had seen Clint leave last Friday.

“Uhm... yes?” Phil frowned when Steve suddenly grinned, grabbed his car keys and left his room. “Steve!” Phil yelled and followed him in the corridor but he didn't stop. In an instant he was out of his dorm and hurried to the parking lot only to see Romanov's Corvette drive around a corner. He ran over to his car and climbed in and with squealing tires he drove in the same direction. Once again he followed him and once again he drove to the strange house with the bouncers. And once again they let him in after a few words. 

Steve just decided to wait here. He had to come back and then he would talk to him when he saw a man, about mid-forties but with already graying hair, smirking at him. The guy was a little bit smaller than Steve but he could see that he was loaded. 

“You look like you're stood up,” he smiled and Steve just shrugged. 

“No, I...” He licked his lips. 

“You want to go in but your _Daddy_ forgot you?” The man pursed his lips and Steve literally felt his eyes on his body. 

“What!? No... no, it's...” 

“Okay,” the man nodded and turned to walk over to the stairs. 

“Wait!” Steve said before he could stop himself. With a smug smirk the guy turned back. 

“Yeah?” He asked and Steve swallowed. 

“A... a friend of me... he works there and...” 

“You want to see what he does but you don't have an invitation?” The man cocked his head.

“Yes.” Steve admitted and gritted his teeth. “Can... can you...” The grin broadened and the man held his elbow out for Steve to link arms with him. He hesitated a few seconds but he really wanted to go in. He wanted to see what Clint does in there and why they made such a fuss about it. And finally he took the offered arm. 

“My name is Barry,” the older man said and patted Steve's hand on his arm. He was way too close for his peace of mind but he didn't want to risk not to get in, not when he was so close.

“St--anley, my name is Stanley,” Steve said and Barry smiled.

“It's okay, Stanley, Stewart, Steven, Stirling or whatever it is. I'll call you Stan, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” Steve nodded and Barry patted his hand again. Together they went up to the door and the two bouncers from last Friday were there. One of them seemed to recognize him and smirked while the other greeted the older man.

“Welcome, Mr. Wright.” He held the door for them and let them enter the building. And Steve stared open-mouthed. From the outside it might look ramshackle but on the inside it was perfectly renovated and luxurious furnished. The carpet in the entrance hall was dark red and it felt soft beneath Steve's feet, even through his shoes. And when he saw the service staff he knew why the carpet needed to be so soft, they were barefoot and except for a tiny, black satin thong and a bow tie naked. One of them came over with a smile and held a tray with champagne glasses out for them and Barry took one, handed it to Steve and took another one. 

“Welcome to _The Club_ , Stan.” He clinked his glass to Steve's. 

“Uhm... Barry. I... I'm not twenty-one, I...” He lied.

“No need to worry, no one will bother you here.” Barry chuckled and emptied his glass in one long sip before he placed it back on the service boy's tray before he waved another young man in thong on bow tie over. 

“He needs a visitor's bracelet, Troy.” Barry said before he turned to Steve. “What's your friends name?” 

“He... his name is Clint,” Steve said and Barry nodded at Troy. The young man deliberated a few seconds and then he smiled. 

“He's one of the fighters. Hawkeye.” He smiled and Barry turned to him, a brow raised. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes, sir.” Troy nodded.

“You have good taste, Stan,” Barry chuckled but then Troy gestured at Steve to follow him. Barry nodded at him and Steve went with Troy over to the coat check. He opened one of the drawers, took a small, thin, green plastic ribbon, put it around Steve's wrist and closed it. 

“You can easily cut it off when you're out here,” Troy explained. “With this bracelet you can enter all the rooms with a green badge on the door, the dance floors, the fighting arena, the pool and sauna and the bars.” He looked over to where Barry waited for him. “Be careful with Barry, he seems to be a nice guy but...” he closed his mouth and when Barry waved at them to get a move on he smiled an whispered. “Just... just be careful, okay?” 

“Thank you,” Steve said and turned to Barry, who smiled a little bit too friendly at him right now. But then he went over to him, smiled himself, and took another glass of champagne from a passing waiter before Barry took his arm and led him into another room, a large room, like a ballroom. On each side were bars with staff, dressed like usual with a black thong and a bow tie. It was furnished with antiques and expensive furniture, Steve could tell. And in the whole room were only men. Not a single woman was here. The men were dressed from casual to elegant, from jeans and polo-shirts to suits and tuxes he could see everything. There were young men, middle-aged men, old men, blond men, brunette men, gray-haired men, thin men, thick men, normal sized men. 

Apparently Barry could read his mind because he chuckled again and Steve felt his hand on the small of his back. “It's a club for men with special demands.” 

“Yes, that's what I've thought.” Steve forced a smile onto his face and tried to move away from Barry's touch but he was like an octopus, he seemed to have more arms than he should have. 

“Do you want to have another drink?” Barry's hand landed on Steve's ass and he had to concentrate not to flinch. He didn't want to have Barry's hands on him but the man brought him in and he had known what he wanted.

“No. Can I ask you a question?” Steve wriggled away from his touch again and Barry cocked his head.

“Of course, Stan.” Barry emptied his fourth glass, as usual in one big gulp. He took Steve's arm and led him to one of the bars, gestured for the young man behind it and ordered whiskey. 

“What did he mean with 'fighter'?” Barry looked at him and then he threw his head back, laughing. He patted Steve's shoulder and then he wrapped his hand around his waist. 

“This club exists to provide all kinds of amusements, Stan. Follow me, I'll show you.” Barry led him out of another door to a staircase. It was an impressive construct, broad stairs leading into the upper floor but Barry led him around the stairs to another, not so impressive staircase that went into the basement. Down there was a broad corridor, leading to only one open door. The other doors had yellow and red badges. 

“What's behind those doors?” Steve asked but Barry only laughed. 

“That's beyond your pay grade,” he chuckled and led Steve to the open door. The room behind it had dark walls and there was a bar at the left side, a lot of bar tables and another door at the opposite wall. Down here the service staff didn't wear satin, they wore leather thongs and no bow ties but red rivet chokers. Barry waved one of the guys over to him.

“Who's currently fighting?” He asked.

“Right now it's Apocalypse versus Starlord, sir,” the young man answered with a smile. Barry pursed his lips and turned to Steve.

“Your friend...” 

“Hawkeye,” Steve prompted and Barry nodded. 

“When does Hawkeye fight?” he turned back to the young man. 

“He's the next, sir. His opponent is Nightcrawler.” 

“Could be a nice fight. ” Barry smirked. “You have no idea what a happy bunny you are, Stan. Hawkeye is an excellent fighter but so is Nightcrawler... let's say, you'll like the fourth round.” 

The door on the other wall opened and about thirty men poured out, went to the bar, talking, laughing, ordering drinks. Barry went to one of the men, together with Steve, his arm around his waist to show him around like a trophy. 

“Thomas,” he greeted the other man and when he saw him he smiled and they shook hands. Of course the man called Thomas checked Steve out and nodded appreciatively at Barry. They started to talk but then Barry asked him, who had won the fight.

“Apocalypse, of course. You should've seen him afterwards when he...” Thomas started but Barry stopped him with a raised hand. 

“Don't, please. It's his first time here and I don't want to spoil his surprise.” 

“Oh. Well, then. Have fun, you two,” Thomas smiled and took his drink, something colorful and fancy. “I think, they'll start.” 

Steve was really curious and so he ignored Barry's wandering hand on his back while they entered the room. The 'stage' was subjacent and the stairs down there led also to stairs on their left and right. The walls were as black as in the other room and the floor was cold steel, only down on the stage was parquet and large part was covered by a mat, like a wrestling mat. Barry led him to one of the seats in the second row and they both sat down. They didn't have to wait long and a Asian looking man in black cargo pants and a black sleeveless shirt stepped onto the mat. 

“Okay, Gentlemen. You know the routine. Our next two fighters, already waiting outside, are Nightcrawler and Hawkeye. Jason and Marc will come to you if you want to place a bet. And now, let's start with Maurice.”


	17. We're here to talk to you about Clint and Steve.

“Okay, guys. It's nice that all of you could come,” Betty said and looked around in the cafe. Bruce sat beside her and seemed nervous. 

“Well, Mr. Pain-in-the-ass here insisted,” Tony grumbled and Pepper elbowed him in his chest. “Ouch!” It was Friday, late evening, and he wanted to be at a party right now but Pepper had dragged him over here to talk about Clint and Rogers.

“Tony loves to be here,” Pepper said and smiled when Maria, Betty and Peggy shared an amused glance. 

“We're here to talk to you about Clint and Steve.” Phil said, leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. Bucky snorted into his own mug and when Jasper frowned he put the mug down and sighed. “Let me guess. Clint is so perfect and so good looking and everything but I can't have him because... insert lame excuse here. Am I right?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Peggy smirked. “Guess you know that song.”

“So, just to be sure were on the same page here, Steve Rogers is gay and has the hots for our favorite archer slash mathematician slash nude model, right?” Darcy asked and Phil slowly nodded.

“Oh yes, he definitely has the hots,” Maria confirmed and Darcy couldn't hold back a smile when the other girl rolled her eyes.

“The problem is, Barton is a little bit... how do I phrase this... shy in this case.” Natasha said and elbowed Bucky when he snorted. “I know, shy is usually not a term adequate to describe him and his ego but... I guess it's something really serious.” 

“So, any ideas how to get them together?” Jasper asked and looked around and Betty and Bruce nodded slowly.

“Yeah, we've talked, swapped a few ideas, you know,” Bruce said and looked around.

“Sure you have, among other things I assume,” Tony smirked and Bruce just raised his brow but ignored him otherwise. 

“Do you think a blind date would work? We have a few ideas.” Betty asked now and the others deliberated a few seconds before Tony asked.

“What do you have in mind?” 

“Uhm... we've thought that maybe one of you can ask Barton to meet him for a coffee here or in some other cafe and one of us asks Steve and then only the two of them are there and... well...” Betty said and Tony pursed his lips. 

“Okay, that's theoretically a good idea but who says that both of them are coming and if they do that they are going to talk to each other?” Tony cocked his head. “I mean, as far as I know was Clint runing away the last time he met Rogers.” 

“Yeah, that could be a problem,” Phil nodded and wiped over his mouth. “Someone should be with them.” 

And suddenly all eyes turned to either Bruce or Betty. 

“What?” She asked and looked at them but then Bruce snickered slightly and she sighed. “Yeah, okay. I guess we could do that, right?” 

“Sure. I mean, it would be a real hardship but... well... you have to help a friend,” he sighed theatrically but with a wink in his eyes.

“You're our hero, Bruce,” Pepper smiled and patted his shoulder.

“I guess we should start it easy. Coffee, I think.” 

“Good idea. With Clint's caffeine addiction definitely a good idea,” Bucky nodded and Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“And it's easy to manage. I mean, you two ask them to go for a coffee with you and then you _accidentally_ ,” she made air quotes, “meet there and insist to sit together because... you know. And when it works out you can easily disappear.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan. So, we only need a target date.” Peggy rubbed her hands with a broad smile.

They all put their heads together and checked their schedules to get a _perfect_ date for the two of them and after half an hour and a heated discussion they found the perfect date and with a good feeling they all left, only Bruce and Betty stayed back a few more minutes.

“Hey,” she smiled and took his hand and Bruce looked down, heard a wolf-whistle and then a muffled 'ouch' and he couldn't repress a grin.

“Hey, yourself.” He looked up now.

“You wanna grab some coffee someday?” She asked and Bruce chuckled but then he nodded with a smile.

“Yes, I'd like that.” 

“Cool,” she said, smirked and then she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “See you soon, Bruce.” 

“Good night, Betty.” He watched her leaving and carefully he touched his cheek where she had kissed him.


	18. Ass slapping, red.

To say that Steve was curious would put it mildly and Barry beside him couldn't hold back a chuckle. On the mat down appeared another young man and started to dance sexily to some techno music while the guests placed their bets. When a young man in leather thong and choker and with a tablet computer in his hand came over to them Barry looked at Steve and cocked his head.

“So, I've seen both fighters before. They are both skilled and really flexible. What do you think? Will your friend win?” 

“I don't know, he's still hurt,” Steve murmured carefully – he still tried to process the 'flexible' comment – and Barry nodded, his lips pursed. 

“Five on Nightcrawler,” he said and handed the man his membership card who typed something on the tablet, turned it and Barry pressed his thumb on a certain spot, smirked and took his card to put it away. 

“Did you just bet five hundred dollars on this fight?” Steve asked, his eyes wide and Barry laughed. 

“No, not five hundred. Five thousand.” 

“Five thousand! That's...” he started and gaped disbelievingly but Barry patted his knee and maybe moved his hand a little bit to far up on his thigh.

“Don't worry, that's what I usually earn in an hour. I can afford it.” He chuckled and Steve swallowed. Five thousand dollar in an hour? That was more than he could imagine right now. 

But then they got interrupted by the man in his cargo pants again. 

“Okay, you all had your chance to place bets. I guess, it's time to let our fighters in, right?” The man said and the crowd cheered and clapped before it got dark in the room and only a few spotlights illuminated the mat. The fighters couldn't see the guys watching them, Steve realized and he was somehow relieved. But then he saw two figures arrive. One of them was Clint, he recognized him immediately and the other one had to be Nightcrawler. He was about the same age as Clint, maybe a little taller, with dark hair and some strange tattoos on his chest and arms and legs. They both were nearly naked, only wore tiny, colored spandex shorts, Clint's in blue and Nightcrawlers in red, and straps around their left ankles in the same colors. The black clad man talked to them, both nodded, shook hands and then turned to each other. 

“Okay? Let's go!” the man clapped his hands and immediately the two attacked each other. 

“How does this work?” he whispered quietly and Barry leaned over to him but didn't drew his eyes off of the two fighting men. 

“It's basically the usual wrestling rules with a few special rules in this case but you will see,” he smirked and Steve nodded again, his brows furrowed. He wasn't familiar with the wrestling rules, he had never wrestled himself or watched it. 

Clint and the other guy rolled over the mat, tried to get the other one into certain positions and the man in black walked around the mat and watched them closely. Clint managed to grab the other guy and he tapped out. Steve didn't realize that he bit his own lip and leaned forward till he heard the tiny chuckle of Barry beside him. He turned his head and smiled at the older man.

“I've told you,” he grinned and patted Steve's knee again. But when he heard a shout from down the mat they both looked at the fighters and it seemed as if Nightcrawler had managed to shove Clint off of the mat. 

“Takedown, red,” the man announced and directed them in a new position, Clint on his knees and the other guy behind him. They moved quickly and then Nightcrawler had Clint in another hold. 

“Control, red,” he called and Barry leaned over again.

“Guess you've been right with your tip.” 

“Control, red.” Again. Steve had brought his fingers to his mouth and realized that he chewed on his thumbnail when Clint finally managed to get the other one into a grip. 

“Control, blue.” Steve saw that Clint had problems with his ankle, sometimes he couldn't get a good stance or it slipped away and that brought all the advantages to Nightcrawler. He had Clint in a grip that bowed him backwards and Steve could see the outline of Clint's half hard cock through the thin fabric and he felt his mouth go dry.

“Control, red.” 

“Takedown, red.” 

“Ass slapping, red.” Steve turned to Barry but the man just shrugged. 

“Like I've said, there are a few special rules here.” Steve nodded slowly and looked back at the two fighting men.

Steve gasped when he saw that the guy grabbed Clint's balls through the flimsy fabric of the shorts. “Balls grab, red.” 

After about ten minutes the man in black called “Cut! Into position,” and both stopped, rose, shook hands and the man announced that this was first round.


	19. He's all yours.

The second round started about five minutes later but Clint and Nightcrawler didn't wear their flimsy shorts anymore. They wore only jockstraps and the colored strap around their ankles. 

This round started as the last one ended. Clint was in disadvantage when Nightcrawler attacked him. He couldn't get a good stance because of his leg and suddenly the dark haired guy grabbed Clint, lifted him up and slammed him down. 

“Takedown, red.” 

But when they started again Clint managed to get the upper hand. “Control, blue. Ass slapping, blue. Jockstrap over head, blue.” Steve raised his brows when Clint had grabbed the straps and moved it over the other guy's head. But apparently not only it was allowed but also it got him points. Nightcrawler didn't take it, he grabbed Clint's jock and did the same. “Jockstrap over head, red.” Steve couldn't see what exactly they did but in an instant both jocks were ripped and gone and now he could only stare, his mouth open and his eyes wide. The referee grabbed both of the ripped jocks and threw them away. 

Nightcrawler managed to force Clint onto his back, grabbed his balls and Steve could hear him groan painfully. “Balls grabbing, red.” 

“You like it?” Barry asked beside him and Steve could only nod, not able to avert his eyes from the spectacle down on the mat. It wasn't the first time he saw Clint naked but this time was really different. The fight was so sexually charged that he felt himself getting hard and that was embarrassing. Nightcrawler moved Clint around and got him into a grip again that exposed everything. “Full Nelson, red.” 

Clint could free himself but like Barry had said, Nightcrawler was flexible and only a few seconds later he had Clint flat on the mat, sat on his upper chest and held his hands. “Cock to the face, red.” 

But then Clint could make a few points. “Cock grabbing, blue. Ass slapping, blue. Nelson, blue.” And this time Nightcrawler tapped out. They started anew. “Control, blue. Full Nelson, blue.”

“Cut! Into position. That was round two, guys.” 

“This is... wow!” Steve couldn't decide if he should be disgusted that Clint did something like this or aroused because it was smoking hot or excited because he definitely didn't have problems with cocks in his face. Maybe he should be impressed because he was skilled, even if his injury affected him. But most of all he was curious. “What's next?” 

“Round three? They fight entirely naked.” 

“But they did that already, right?” Steve furrowed his brows when he felt Barry's hand wandering over his back but he still didn't move an inch, he just gritted his teeth. 

“Well, this time they got rid of the jocks very quickly. Sometimes a fighter manages to keep it the whole round.” 

Steve looked down to the mat and in the back he could see Clint and the other guy, Nightcrawler. They both had bottles with water in their hands and talked and Steve could even see Clint laugh at one point. He raised his brow. Apparently they were only opponents in the ring. 

“Round three,” the black dressed man announced and both fighters came back to the ring. The went kneeling in the middle and faced each other and when the referee gave them the start signal Nightcrawler immediately brought Clint in another grip. They both lay on the ground, Clint's hands out of the way and his feet held back when the dark haired guy grabbed his cock.

“Cock stroking, red.” Steve felt his mouth go even more dry and he tried to swallow the big lump he had in his throat. And Barry, who had seen it, chuckled. He gestured at one of the staff boys behind them and a few seconds later Steve had a glass with water in his hands. “Control, red.” 

“Ass slapping, red. Cock stroking, red.” 

“Holy...” Steve started but trailed off in the middle of whatever he intended to say. He felt his own dick getting really hard right now and he emptied half of the glass in two big gulps. The moans now weren't entirely from the fight, now they were more from the handling of his dick and Steve could see that it became more difficult for Clint to move away now. His groans became slightly frantic. 

Clint managed a few points himself - “Ass slapping, blue. Balls grabbing, blue. Face sitting, blue.” - but in the end the result was forseeable. 

“Ass slapping, red. Cock to the face, red. Full Nelson, red. Gut punching, red. Cock stroking, red. Control, red. Control, red. Face to the mat, red. Control, blue. Cock stroking, red.” 

“Cut! Into position,” the referee in black yelled and both stopped. Heavily breathing both rose and went the middle of the ring, facing each other. The referee went to them and took an arm of both of them. 

“Winner is: Nightcrawler!” He raised the guys arm and Steve could see Clint see swallow and lick his lips. The referee pointed with his hand at Clint. “Nightcrawler, he's all yours.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Steve's head snapped around to Barry. 

“Oh, you know what that means,” the man grinned lecherous and pointed with his head down to the mat. 

Nightcrawler had grabbed Clint's neck and gave him a shove and went down to his knees. He stepped between his spread legs, grabbed his hair and shoved his dick in Clint's open mouth. Steve felt drops of precum leaking his own dick and he palmed his crotch through his pants. And when he looked around he wasn't the only one who did that. Nightcrawler leaned over Clint and while he sucked the other boy he got his ass fingered. Both moaned uncontrollable and Steve could hear slight choking noises. 

After a short time Nightcrawler pulled Clint back, stroked his cock and then he turned him around, pressed a hand against his neck again and him into the mat. He slapped Clint's ass, spread his cheeks and Steve hiccuped when Nightcrawler rimmed Clint. The blond moaned and moved his hand to stroke his cock but the dark haired guy slapped his hand away and jacked him himself. Clint's moans got even louder now. 

But then, on a sign to the referee, Nightcrawler got a condom and lube and Steve hiccuped again. This couldn't be real. This definitely couldn't be real. With an experienced motion Nightcrawler rolled the condom over his dick, poured lube on it and then he leaned over Clint, pressed his head onto the mat and snapped his hips forward. The loud groan told Steve that he hit his target. He started to move his hips and the sound, when his balls slapped against Clint's perineum, was obscenely arousing. 

Once more he heard the chuckle beside him and Barry whispered into his ear. “I've told you that you would like the fourth round.” 

Nightcrawler had turned Clint around so that he lay on his back, his legs spread, and still pounded his ass, one hand stroking Clint's erection and Steve saw him throw his head back in pleasure. But before he came he withdrew, removed the condom and shot his load over Clint's chest. He stroked his cock for a few more seconds before he slapped Clint's hand from his own cock away, took it and jacked him of, right here in front of all the people and it didn't take long before Clint added his cum to Nighcrawler's on his chest.

Steve was in a haze when he turned to Barry. “Where's the bathroom?” And when he told him he almost ran out of the fighting arena hastily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed the rules: [NSFW!!](http://www.nakedkombat.com/site/nk/rules.jsp) and definitely only for adults!!


	20. You don't want Mr. Colby angry.

Back in the lockers Clint showered and after a few minutes Kurt came over to him. 

“Hey, Clint. What was wrong with you this afternoon?” He turned on the tap beside him and stepped under the spray. 

“I don't know. Just not my day I think.” Clint turned to the wall and placed both hands against the tiles, let the water run over his body and just soaked in.

“You've never been this unconcentrated, man.” 

“Kurt, can you... can you just keep quiet? I...” 

“Yeah, I know. Not your day. Don't get your knickers in a twist.” Kurt turned to the shower head and held his face into the water while Clint frowned and cocked his head.

“Knickers?” He blurted out and stared at the other guy.

“Yeah, you know, pants, skids... We learn British English in school, damn it.” Kurt glared so indignant right now that Clint couldn't hold back a laugh and it was really freeing. All the bad thoughts he had lately seemed more bearable in an instant. 

“You're strange, Barton.” Kurt shook his head and turned back to his shower head.

“I don't know what was wrong, Kurt,” Clint explained after a few more minutes, grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his hips. “It's... I really don't know. But congratulations. That was a good fight.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

When Clint went to his locker he saw James, also known as Warpath, and Robert, Nitro, changing into their shorts. They were the next to fight.

“Hey, Barton,” James looked up when he passed them and Clint stopped for a moment and looked at him. “I've seen your fight.” 

Inwardly Clint sighed. “Yeah, I know, I...” 

“Dan said you need to partake in the trainings sessions more often.” James pulled the small green band over his ankle and rose. Dan was the guy who acted as referee today. He also was their trainer, a former wrestling professional with damaged spine.

“Yeah, I'll... I'll try to be here more often,” he nodded and Robert came over to them now, leaned against the lockers and folded his arms in front of his chest. 

“Dan said, if you don't take part in the training sessions regularly he has to inform Mr. Colby.” 

“No!” Clint couldn't hold back. “I... I'll talk to Dan.” 

“He was really pissed, by the way.” James said and went over to the door leading to the ring. 

“Fuck,” Clint muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose. He leaned against the lockers and slightly banged his head back against the doors a few times. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Training was every Tuesday shortly after his job as nude model. Maybe he could ask Dan if he could start later with the training. Robert patted his shoulder and followed James.

“You're still here?” Kurt came out of the showers and Clint startled slightly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I've talked to James and Robert. Apparently Dan is pissed off because I've missed training a few times.”

“Oh, yes. He was angry. But... if you want to I can work in a few trainings session in my schedule. Just you and me.” 

“You think this will help?” 

“It can't hurt.” Kurt shrugged and Clint finally opened his locker, removed the towel and started to dress. 

“I'll talk to Dan, Clint. Maybe we can figure something out. You don't want to anger Dan because if Dan is angry then Mr. Colby is angry and... phew... you don't want Mr. Colby angry.” 

“I know. Do you really think I don't know?” Clint looked at him but then he smiled and grabbed his rucksack. But when he turned and was nearly out of the door Kurt addressed him again.

“Hey Clint, I don't know who's upset you so much but maybe you talk to them to get this out of the world.” 

Clint looked at the other man for a very long moment before he huffed a laughter and shook his head. “Kurt, my friend, you're definitely not the first one who says this.” 

“What's holding you back?” 

“I don't know. I really don't.”


	21. Where have you been?

Steve stayed in his room the rest of the weekend. He managed to avoid Barry after he came back from the restroom and when he sneaked out of the door he saw the older man apparently searching for him. But he didn't want to see him again. He hurried to his car and drove home.

Back in his room in the dorm he wanted to go to bed but then he went to the shower first and with the memory fresh in his minds he started to stroke his dick. It was still rock hard and he didn't need much, the warm water, the shower gel and the image of Clint getting fucked into the wrestling mat, and he came harder than ever, he saw stars and his come splattered against his own chin. 

He wanked even more the whole Saturday and Sunday but stayed away from Phil and his other friends. As soon as he closed his eyes he saw Clint's face in his mind, the pleasure and the beauty when he came, open-mouthed, and inwardly he groaned. It was worse than before since he knew that Clint was into men, since he knew that Clint liked to take it up the ass but he still didn't know if Clint was into him, Steve. A few times he went to the door and had his hand already at the handle but then he went back to his bed. He grabbed his sketchbook instead and drew Clint fighting against Nightcrawler, Clint getting fucked, Clint coming with the most beautiful expression on his face, Clint, Clint and even more Clint. 

The Monday morning went by in a blur but then he couldn't avoid his friends any longer and so he went to the cafeteria to eat his lunch together with them. 

“Holy shit, he's still alive!” Maria burst out as soon as she saw him appear their table with a tray in his hand. The others at their table turned and looked expectantly at him but Steve just sat down and started to eat. 

“Steve? You okay?” Betty asked and frowned.

“Huh?” Steve looked up and saw all the concerned faces around him. “What? Yeah. Yeah, I'm... I'm okay.” He nodded and turned to his food. “Just hungry.” 

“Where have you been? No one has seen you the whole weekend.” Maria asked and Steve sighed. 

“I've been busy.” 

“Steve, please don't tell me that you followed Barton again,” Phil asked now and Steve put his fork onto his plate and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“No,” he lied and hoped that his ears didn't give him away again. They usually turned pink when he lied but apparently he was convincing enough. “No, I... I had work to do. You know for... for Professor Greary.” 

“Okay,” Phil said and Steve wasn't sure now that he had convinced _him_. Phil was the most observant human he ever met.

“Yeah, I... I've been... you know... out in the nature, drawing.” 

“Yeah? What have you drawn?” Phil asked now and Steve huffed. 

“Okay, fine. I haven't been away. I've been in my room because I wanted to be alone. I wanted to get some stuff done.” 

“Hey, it's okay, Steve. But you it's not good for you to be alone the whole weekend.” Betty looked around and then she sighed. “Okay, I know that you have no class at 4 this afternoon. We're going for a coffee and I tolerate no dissent. One could think you've hidden in your room and wanked the whole weekend.” Steve blushed violently. 

“Yeah, okay. Fine.” He grabbed his fork and stabbed a few noodles on his plate. He didn't see the triumphant glance. Betty took her phone and texted Bruce.

**We're coming. B.**


	22. Speaking of the devil.

Bruce came into their room and saw Clint lying on his bed and typing on his laptop, dressed only in a t-shirt and boxers. 

“Are you... are you _working_ on your paper? Seriously?” Bruce stopped and put a hand on his chest. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Maybe you won't believe me but I'm already half done.” 

“Seriously?” Bruce repeated but this time without the mocking tone. 

“Yeah. I... I had some time this weekend and...” 

“You hid in the library?” Bruce sat down on his desk chair and rolled over to be in front of Clint. He sighed, saved his paper and closed his laptop. 

“Maybe,” he said but it sounded more like a question. He wiped his face and shrugged slightly. “I need to get done as much as possible in case...” he drifted off and looked at the door. 

“What's wrong, Clint? I mean, aside from the fact that you're madly in love with Steve.” Bruce's voice became soft and he leaned his elbows onto his knees. 

“Just a few problems with my job.” Clint shrugged and leaned back against the wall. 

“The job no one is supposed to know about?” Bruce cocked his head and Clint sighed.

“Yeah, that one. It's... difficult at the moment. They say I'm not concentrated and I guess it may be connected with my fascination with a certain artist slash football jock.”

“So, you admit it? And you don't think that... I don't know... you talking to him could help in this department?” Bruce folded his arms in front of his chest and Clint sighed once more. 

“I've tried, Bruce. Don't you think I haven't tried? It's either I stand there and stare at him, not being able to get a word out or, and that's my problem lately, as soon as I want to talk to him there's someone else and disturbs us, mostly Professor Greary.” 

Now it was Bruce who sighed. “Okay. That's enough. You've wallowed enough in self-pity. Get dressed, we're going out.” 

“What? No. I have to...”

“Bullshit, Clint. You just try to hide in here. You put on some pants or I drag you out in your boxers.” 

“Are you nuts?” He sat up and stared at his friend but Bruce shook his head. 

“No, but honestly, I'm fed up with your whining. We're going out now. You need to see other people, dammit.” 

“Okay. Fine.” Clint grumbled when Bruce threw a jeans in his direction. “Where are we going?” 

“I need some chai and you apparently need coffee.” Bruce folded his arms and tapped the fingers of his right hand against his bicep till Clint huffed and stepped into his jeans. 

“Why do you always have to drink that ugly stuff? There's only one joint who sells it and it's on the other side of the campus,” Clint grumbled and slipped into his favorite worn out sneakers. 

“I like it!” Bruce said and threw Clint's hoodie in his direction. He grabbed his wallet and together they left. 

“So, what's wrong with your job?” Bruce asked once they were outside of their dorm and Clint sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. 

“I don't know. It's... it sucks lately, you know. I mean, it's... it's important for me but... I don't like it.”

“Why don't you quit?” Bruce looked at Clint and he shrugged. 

“Then I can pack my bag straight away, Bruce. You know that I can never afford the fees. My parents are carnies in a traveling circus, remember? They can consider themselves lucky when they earn enough for their own living.” Clint said quietly. And Bruce wanted to slap himself. He knew that, Clint had told him long time ago. 

“Did you ever try to get a athletic scholarship? I mean, I have you seen with your bow at night after the girls team...” 

“That's the problem, Bruce. If I were a girl, then...” he didn't finish the sentence but Bruce knew what he meant. Clint wanted to study here, the mathematics faculty was one of the best in the world, but they didn't have an archery team for men here. 

Bruce's phone buzzed and he excused himself and looked at it. Betty wrote him that she and Steve would come. He smiled.

“Good news?” Clint asked curiously when he saw Bruce smile and he couldn't help himself and nod. 

“Yeah. I met someone,” he grinned and Clint raised a brow.

“Details?” They walked together to the door of the cafe and Clint opened the door for him and Bruce. They found an empty table and sat down, waiting for the waitress to come over to them. 

“Nice, good looking, intelligent...” Bruce started and Clint boxed his arm.

“Does she have a name?” He asked and waited when the waitress brought their drinks. Bruce stirred half a spoon of sugar into his chai while Clint took his first sip of coffee. He would never contaminate perfectly fine coffee with sugar or milk.

“Yeah...” Bruce slowly took a sip, placed the mug back onto the table and licked his lips. Clint raised his brow and Bruce sighed. He knew that Clint was very observant and he also knew that Clint knew that he was stalling. 

“Betty,” he admitted and Clint's eyes went wide. 

“Betty? Please don't tell me you're talking about Betty Ross!” Clint blurted out and then, a second later, he paled. Bruce turned around and saw said Betty accompanied by Steve entering the cafe. “Speaking of the devil,” he heard Clint murmur but his voice was shaky. Bruce raised his hand and waved at Betty and she waved back and said something to Steve but when he looked in their direction he stopped and paled, then blushed, then paled again, turned and hurried out of the cafe. Betty turned around, her hand still in the air and followed Steve with her eyes, open-mouthed. 

“See, that's what I meant,” Clint huffed frustrated, let his head drop onto the table and banged it down a few times. Bruce looked back to Betty and she gestured in his direction that they should stay, she would follow Steve and Bruce nodded. When he turned back to look at Clint he just raised his head from the table. “He can't even stand to look at me. Better I forget it.” Clint said and rose. Bruce grabbed his arm.

“Come on, Clint. Stay. Drink at least your coffee,” he said and hoped that Betty would come back soon, preferably with Steve. But Clint just grabbed his mug, emptied it in two big gulps and put it on the table. 

“Thanks for the coffee, Bruce. But I have to write my paper.” And when he left Bruce cursed silently. Plan A failed, time for another plan. 


	23. I can't go in there.

“Steve? Steve! What... Steve, stop!” He finally stopped and it seemed as if he sagged down. With a sigh he leaned against the wall beside him and Betty could close up to him. “What the fuck was that?” She asked and she saw him press his lips tight together and not being able to look at her. He was bright red and his jaw worked but he didn't say a word.

“Steve, come on,” she said again and he shook his head. 

“I... I can't. Betty, I can't go in there,” he said and flushed again. 

“Why? Because of Barton? Didn't you say you want to try to talk to him?” She leaned against the wall beside him and looked at him from the side. He took a deep breath, his eyes turned to his feet and he shook his head again. 

“I know and... and I thought I could. But not after...” he closed his mouth too quickly and Betty raised her brow. 

“After?” She asked and Steve swallowed heavily. “Steve, what happened last weekend?” 

“No. No, I... I can't talk about _that_!” He pressed through his teeth and turned even more red. But just when Betty wanted to open her mouth again he shook his head once more, pushed off of the wall and she could see that he restrained himself to not run. 

Betty exhaled slowly and turned to go to the cafe. Bruce was still there but Barton was gone as well. She went over to his table and sat down, saw the empty mug and raised her brow.

“He went back to work on his paper,” Bruce said, slightly frustrated, and leaned back, removed his glasses and cleaned them before he put them back on. 

“I don't know what's wrong with Steve. He said he wanted to talk to Barton and now he ran away, literally. Wait a sec, I'll send a message to Phil. He needs to talk to him.” Betty grabbed her phone and typed a few seconds before she looked up again. 

“Okay, what went wrong?” Betty asked and waved at the waitress. She ordered a cappuccino when she came over and then she leaned back and watched Bruce sip his chai. He sighed when he put the mug down. 

“Uhm, we talked and then Clint saw you and Steve. He seemed nervous but he didn't run away. Apparently he was actually willing to talk to him. Only when he ran out of here he left as well. Steve?” 

“I haven't seen him like this before. I mean, I know that he lusts after Barton for a long time, I've seen him stare at him all the time in the cafeteria but... today was definitely unusual. He saw him, paled and went red at the same moment and he couldn't even say a word when I finally got him.” Betty thanked the waitress when she brought her drink and stirred sugar in it before she took a sip as well.

“So it's Rogers.” Bruce stirred in his mug as well while thinking and then he grinned. “Okay, we have to get the two of them to a place where they can't run away. And we have to make sure that Rogers is there first.” He thought about it for a few more seconds and then he added, “Oh, and maybe someone should find out _why_ he ran away and if he still is interested.” 

“If someone can find out then it's Phil. The two of them are really close friends. Steve even confessed to Phil that he followed Barton to his job.” 

Bruce paled. “He... he followed him? To his job? Did they let him in?” He once was tempted to follow him as well but he could restrain himself. He still was curious.

Betty shook her head. “No, he said the bouncers at the door shooed him away. Do you know what he does?” He also shook his head. 

“No, only Natasha does. He's a little bit secretive about it but both, Clint and Natasha, assured us that it's not illegal and I believe them.” 

“Hey,” they heard another voice and – as if she had heard them say her name – Natasha appeared at their table. “Where are our two lover boys?” Bucky stood behind her, his arm around her hip and seemed as curious as Natasha. 

“Are they...” Bucky waggled his brows and Bruce rolled his eyes. Betty just shook her head.

“No. We... we had a problem.” They both made space for Natasha and Bucky to sit down as well and then they explained what happened. 

“He followed him? Do you know if he...” Natasha asked when Betty had told her everything she knew. 

“He said they didn't let him in.” Natasha slowly nodded, looked at Bucky who shrugged and then she sighed. 

“Where can I find him? Rogers.” 

“He has football training this afternoon. Guess you can find him there.” 

Natasha looked at her watch, then she took a paper, scribbled her phone number on it and gave it to Betty. “Can you ask Coulson that he calls me when he had talked to Rogers?” 

“Sure,” Betty nodded and sent Coulson another text. 

“Okay, I have class now,” Natasha rose and Bucky went with her. “If you see one of them tell them I want to talk to them, okay?” Both Betty and Bruce nodded and Natasha smiled. It was scary. Bruce wasn't sure if he actually should tell them or if he should recommend that both of them disappear as fast as possible. 

When Natasha and Bucky had left the cafe he looked at Betty, at her empty mug and waved the waitress over to order another _round_.


	24. What do you want from Clint?

When he left the locker rooms of the gym after the training he waved goodbye to his team mates and wanted to go back to his room, he had still some work to do for his art classes, and mentally he was already planning the painting he had to do when he saw Natasha Romanov sitting at the railing of the stairs leading down to the field, apparently waiting for someone. He stopped and looked around but there was no Barnes or Barton around and so he frowned when she raised her brow and looked at him. 

He started moving again and when he was within earshot she waved her finger. “Rogers.” It was more than a command and Steve swallowed slightly. He was taller by more than a head but this small woman was somehow outright scary and apparently she knew it.

“We need to talk,” she said before he could open his mouth to say something.

“I didn't touch him or do anything if it's that what you're concerned about,” he muttered but she raised her perfectly shaped brow, shook her head and climbed down from the railing.

“No, that's not what I'm concerned about.” She walked away from the gym and stopped at one of the benches alongside the paths between the buildings and sat down. She didn't look back if he followed her but he did. He sat down beside her, leaned his head back and sighed. 

“Why did you run away?” She asked without beating around the bush. 

“I... I didn't run...” he started but she raised her hand and stopped him immediately. 

“Rogers, you realize that we tried to set you two up, right? In the cafe with Betty.” 

“You... we... what?” 

“You don't seem to be so dumb from far away,” she murmured and then sighed theatrically. “We all know that you are pining after Clint. And that moron is pining after you but since you two muppets aren't able to even talk to each other your friends and my friends decided that we need to do something. And well, you fucked it up. Subtle isn't really your style, right?” She stated and Steve couldn't help himself, he blushed violently. “I've talked to Phil,” she added then and he managed to turn from bright red to nearly purple. 

“Did he...” he started and then bit his lips. 

“Did he tell me what you've done this weekend?” He shouldn't have told him. He shouldn't have told anyone about his crush on Barton at all. 

“Yes, that...” 

“He skipped the details but I can imagine. And I don't want the details. I just want to ask you one question and I want an honest answer. What do you want from Clint?” 

What did he want from Clint? Everything! He wants him to be the last person he sees when he goes to bed and he wants him to be the first person to see in the morning, he wants him to be the only person allowed to touch him other than in a friendly way, he wants to hold him when he cries and he wants to be the one who makes him laugh, he wants to be the reason why he's happy. But how could he explain that?

“Okay, I understand,” she said and smiled and when he raised a brow in confusion she laughed slightly. “You can't hide the emotions in your face, Rogers.” He blushed again. 

Natasha looked at her watch, rose and waved her finger again. “Come with me. There's something you need to see.” He looked at his watch as well. It was pretty late already, nearly 10 pm, and it started to get dark but Natasha led him over the campus to one of the other training grounds and silently she went to the bleachers, climbed up the rows and finally sat down. Steve took the seat beside her but he was still confused. They were at the field where the girl's archery team had had training but they were gone already. Only one person was still there, dressed in black cargo pants and a purple hoodie. It wasn't one of the girls, it was a guy, Steve could see that and he shot arrow after arrow onto the target. And _holy hell_ , that guy was good. Sometimes he was pretty sure that he didn't even look whereto he shot and still hit bulls eye every damn time. And then he started to shoot perfectly concentric circles around the bulls eye and Steve was pretty sure that the distance between the arrows was of equal length. 

“Why are we here?” he asked and looked at the woman beside him and she raised her brow. 

“You think the brash persona he always shows to everyone is the _real_ Clint? The guy who's more than confident and struts around and flirts with everything with a pulse?” Steve shook his head slightly. No, he always had had the suspicion that this was just a persona but why... 

“That's him?” he looked down at the single figure at the field, shooting at the targets in front of him. Natasha nodded. 

“Don't think he doesn't know already that we're here. His eyes are far better than you even can imagine.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before she continued. “I know that you've been in the club where he works, Phil told me that you've told him. I don't wanna know how you even managed to get in but let me tell you one thing, forget what you've seen there. That's not him, it's just a job, a way to get what he wants.” 

“What he wants?” Steve echoed and furrowed his brows. 

“He wants to study mathematics. Here, on this university because the mathematical faculty it's one of the best in the world. He declined two athletic scholarships to be here,” Natasha explained.

“Really?” His head snapped up and he stared at Natasha. She nodded again and pointed with her chin down to Clint.

“If you want to get to know him, really know him, that's your chance. He knows that you're here and he's still down there. So, grow a pair and talk to him, for fuck's sake.” She rose and turned to leave but before she climbed down she looked at him one more time. “Hey, Rogers. Don't worry, he's as nervous as you.” With that she left the bleachers and disappeared into the darkness. Steve sat there and watched him a few more minutes but then, when he found no more excuses to not do it, he rose as well and went down to the field.


	25. I had no idea that you're an archer.

As soon as Steve's feet touched the grass his heart started to beat like a sledgehammer. He felt his hands getting clammy and he automatically clenched them a few times and then he tugged at his shirt. When he realized that he was too nervous to function properly he stopped for a second, took a deep breath and inwardly scolded his cock for trying to get hard again. Since he had seen him fight only the mere idea of one Clint Barton was enough to get him hard and that's why he _ran away_ in the cafe. He didn't want to sit there, nervous as fuck, and try to have a conversation with him while he had a raging hard-on in his pants.

 _Don't do that to me now_ , he silently begged his dick and started to move again. Clint still didn't turn but Natasha said he knew that he was here. He just took another arrow out of his quiver, nocked it, drew the string, aimed and took a shot. But when he had hit his target he put the bow down in front of him, removed his quiver and turned around. He shoved the hood down and Steve could see him, so close, so, so close. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper and he desperately tried to swallow a few times to get that dry lump in his throat down. 

“Hey,” Clint said and Steve could hear his voice quivering slightly, something no one would expect. He smiled shyly and Steve groaned inwardly because his dick tried to call attention to itself and he had to concentrate to not move his hand down to shove it aside. 

“Hey,” Steve repeated and his voice was squeaky. He cleared his throat and tried it again and this time he didn't sound like Spongebob. _Okay, say something, Steve, say something and don't stare at him like a serial killer!_ “Uhm... you... you're good,” he gestured at the targets. _You're good? Seriously? Idiot! He knows that he's good!_

“Thanks,” Clint looked back at the targets and scratched the back of his head. “Guess I am. But after about fifteen years of practice...” he trailed off and gestured vaguely at his bow. Steve's eyes went wide. Fifteen years of practice? He was a small child when he started then. 

“Uhm...” _Say something, anything, something witty and..._

“Guess Nat has bawled you out as well,” Clint smiled again and Steve felt as if his stomach tried to flutter away. 

“Nah...” he cleared his throat again, “no, she was... well... downright nice,” he added and Clint cocked his head and his eyes went wide. _God, his eyes are so, so... so indescribable beautiful, I could drown in them!_

“You shouldn't tell anyone, that would ruin her reputation,” Clint chuckled and that was it. Steve groaned inwardly when his dick finally decided it was time to make its presence felt. Painfully. 

“I guess that's not a good idea,” he forced through his clenched teeth while concentrating on really unerotic things. But that wasn't easy when he had Clint sex-on-legs Barton right in front of him. 

“Uhm... do you...” Clint started and gestured in a direction with his hand. “Uhm... go for a coffee? Maybe?” he finished and Steve could only nod. He knew he wouldn't get a wink of sleep if he'd drank coffee this late at night but fuck it, he would drink coffee with Clint! And Clint smiled at him again this irresistible smile. 

“Cool. I just get my stuff, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” Steve watched him jog over to the targets to fetch his arrows and he could take a closer look at the bow. It was beautiful, like its owner and when Clint was back and took the weapon he saw him fold the arms of it. 

“Wow, I haven't seen a bow like this before,” he blurted out and Clint looked up, smiled and handed it to Steve.

“That's because it's custom made. Especially for me. It's an unique item.” Steve could hear how proud he was about his bow and when he gave it back he smirked, made a short move with his hand and the bow's arms unfolded again. “See?” he took it and Steve could see that it was perfectly fitting to his hand. “My brother built it.” He once again folded its arms and this time he put it in the case he had with him, added the quiver and the arrows and closed it.

“I had no idea that you're an archer,” Steve said and Clint raised his brow. And then he wanted to slap his head. How could he know that? He never managed to speak to him before. 

“I had no idea that you're an artist,” Clint smiled and Steve scratched the back of his head and blushed. 

He had no idea how they managed it to one of the two cafes around the campus that had open all the night. At this time there weren't too many guests here but four tables were taken. Clint went to an empty table and placed his bow case under the seat before he sat down and even Steve managed to take a seat without revealing the little problem in his pants.

Clint ordered coffee and Steve tea.

“How can you sleep when you drink coffee at this time?” Steve asked, only to say something. It was awkward. He had what he wanted and now they both sat there and had no idea what to say. Clint chuckled. Apparently a good start.

“You know that Stark has the theory that I have coffee in my veins, right?” 

“No, I didn't know that,” but Steve couldn't hold back a smile himself now. 

“I guess it's a little bit out of control but hey, as long as I can sleep at night it can't be wrong.” Clint took a sip of his coffee and then he leaned back and scrutinized Steve, his head tilted and a thoughtful smile on his face. “So, Steve. Why are you studying art? Don't get me wrong but you don't look like an artist.” 

“What do I look like?” Steve asked and Clint took another sip of his coffee. 

“More like a... like a... don't get me wrong, like someone who helps people. Like a cop or a fire fighter or maybe a soldier.” 

“A cop?” Steve's eyes went wide. 

“Yeah. Maybe,” Clint smiled again and Steve shook his head slightly. He could watch him smile for the rest of his life and wouldn't get tired. But then he turned to his bag, took the sketchbook – not the one he had used to draw Clint – and shoved it over the table. When he looked at him questioningly Steve nodded and carefully Clint opened the sketchbook.

“Wow!” He slowly turned over page after page. “They are beautiful. You have a good eye for the details,” he leaned in and looked very closely. “Wow, seriously, they are... they are perfect, Steve.” He looked up, his eyes wide in awe and he was pretty serious. 

“Turn... turn the page around,” Steve said. Clint did it and then he blushed. It was the first picture he had drawn from Clint in their class, the one where he sat in the armchair. And the next page was Clint as 'the thinker'. He blushed even more. 

“You're really good,” Clint said and Steve saw that he meant it. “I mean, I'm no expert but... I like them.” 

“Thanks,” he smiled. Clint skimmed back in the sketchbook. “What about this one? Where did you draw that?” he slid over to sit beside Steve. And they both looked at a drawing. 

“Oh, that. That's actually behind the gym. I just...”


	26. They did it.

“Details, Rogers!” was the first thing he heard as soon as he left his dorm and wanted to go to the cafeteria. He didn't need to turn to know that it was Betty. He groaned and turned nevertheless only to discover that Maria was with her. 

“I... I don't...” he started but Betty raised her brow.

“Please, Phil told us that Romanov called him and that she would take it in her hands and we _know_ that you came back late!” 

 

 

_“It wasn't that late, Darcy. I mean, sure, it was later than usual but...” Clint huffed but Darcy only raised her brow._

_“Seriously? You've finally talked to Mr. I-can't-get-a-word-out Rogers. So, what happened?”_

_“I'm pretty sure that I don't want you to know,” Clint smirked and turned._

 

 

“Nice? That's it? It was nice?” Maria's eyes nearly popped out.

“Well, what can I say?” Steve shrugged and turned again to walk to the cafeteria.

“No, no, no! You don't get away with just that! We want details.” Betty grabbed his arm and held him.

 

 

_“I don't know what you want to know?” Clint stopped abruptly and turned and Darcy ran into him, stepped back and now she folded her arms in front of her chest and tapped with her fingers against her arms._

_“All the juicy details, Barton. What do you think?” she smirked and when Clint huffed and rolled his eyes she chuckled. “Aww, c'mon Barton. Just a tiny bit.”_

_“Okay. Uhm... a tiny bit.” Clint deliberated and then he smiled. “He showed me his pictures.”_

 

 

“Why wouldn't he like them. I mean, you're good, Steve.” Maria stated matter-of-factly.

“People not always like pictures when they are on them.” Steve shrugged and now Betty blushed and Steve cocked his head.

“Please don't tell me you've showed him _those_ pictures!” she blurted out.

“What?! No! Do you think I'm retarded?” 

 

 

_“And you honestly want me to believe that's been everything? Clint, hello? It's me, Darcy!” she stopped him again and Clint sighed._

_“We talked about his pictures, yes. Hey, the deal was one tiny bit, Darce, one!” he pronounced the last word very carefully and held one raised finger under her nose._

_“And then what? You just left and went to bed?” She tapped her fingers against her arm again._

 

 

“Well, yes.” Steve felt heat rise in his cheeks. And for the umpteenth time he cursed his Irish origins for his damn pale skin. 

“Steve,” Maria said and raised one brow. “We know that's not everything.” 

“Maybe I don't want you to know everything?” he turned abruptly and glared at the two girls. 

“Oh, then there _was_ more?” Betty asked and Steve sighed. 

 

 

_“Aww, Clint. You wound me,” Darcy placed both hands over her chest as if her heart would hurt._

_“That doesn't work, Darcy, and you know it,” Clint grinned now, turned around and started to walk to the cafeteria once more. And when he could see the entrance he saw another group of people arrive as well. Steve, followed by Betty Ross and Maria Hill and apparently the two of them questioned him as bad as Darcy. Steve looked up, just when Clint had spotted him and both smiled. And Clint felt something jump in his intestines and his cheeks felt warm._

 

 

“You're impossible,” Betty muttered when Steve suddenly stopped and she bumped into him. But when she looked around him she saw what made him stop. 

Clint Barton just came around the corner, followed by Darcy Lewis and she saw him smile and flush when he spotted Steve. Oh yes, there was definitely more than just watching a few pictures.

“Steve, did you kiss him?” Maria asked and he spun around and stared at her.

“What?” 

“You know, the thing that lovers do sometimes when their lips touch and...” 

“Maria!” Steve sounded slightly indignant but the flush in his cheeks told the two girls everything they needed to know. 

“Oh my god, they did it!” Betty squealed and Maria clapped her hands.

Clint waited in front of the entrance and Steve ignored the giggling of the two of them and went over to him. 

“Hey,” he greeted and his heart made somersaults when Clint smiled again. 

“Hey,” he said as well and Darcy, who stared at them, moved and went to Betty and Maria when Clint threw a glance in her direction. 

“Uhm... breakfast?” Steve gestured at the door and Clint, still smiling like a loon, nodded and together they entered the building. 

 

 

“They did it. They kissed,” Maria told Darcy as soon as she was within earshot. 

“Seriously? Bastard didn't tell me a thing other than that Steve showed him his pictures,” she complained and Betty snickered.

“It's helpful that he can't keep a secret, thanks to his pale skin,” she explained and Darcy couldn't hold back a grin as well.

“So, you want to go in as well to make sure that they don't embarrass themselves?” she asked and Betty looked at Maria and then both shrugged and the three entere


	27. Do you regret it?

“Do you...” Steve started slowly when they sat on a table, not one of their usual ones, both decided to take an other table where they could talk. Without the audience of Clint's friends or Steve's friends. He looked at Clint and bit his lip, not sure how to finish the sentence without embarrassing himself. 

“... regret what we did?” Clint apparently could read his minds. 

 

 

_“So, that's... uhm... you know... my_ home _,” Clint said and gestured at the entrance to his dorm. Steve nodded but didn't let his hand go. It felt too nice to hold his hand. He hadn't expected it to be rough, calloused, but then he remembered that Clint was an archer and that he grew up in a circus, he had had to work with his hands since he was a boy. Of course his hands were rough. But they felt nice, entangled with his hand._

_“Yes, I know,” Steve said and then he wanted to smack his own head. He sounded again like a creepy stalker._

_But Clint didn't step back, he just turned to him and smiled and once more Steve's intestines made somersaults._

_“It was...” he started instead and cocked his head, “I don't know... nice sounds a lot like teenage girls.”_

_“And when it's true?” Steve asked and Clint's smile broadened._

_“Yeah, you're right. I'm glad we finally... you know...” And this time he chuckled and that sound was even more appealing. “... talked,” he added and looked at his feet. Steve could see his ears turn pink._

_“I know. Guess we need to thank Natasha,” Steve said and turned to him, took his other hand, too._

_“She will never let us hear the end of it, believe me.” Clint chuckled again._

_Steve made a step in Clint's direction, entered his personal space and Clint had to look up to him, since Steve was taller than him. But he could see his breath speed up slightly and he licked his lips nervously._

_“May I?” He asked and after two blinks Clint nodded. He let go one of Clint's hands to place it under his chin, turned it up and leaned in, brushed his lips slightly with his own. It was chaste and soft and gentle and perfectly beautiful. Steve placed his other hand on the small of Clint's back and he felt Clint's hands on his arms._

_He had no idea how long they kissed but he regretted the moment they broke it. He still could feel Clint's lips on his and when he saw the smile he couldn't resist and leaned in again. But both of them still didn't turn to more intense,_ violent _kisses, no, they kissed as soft and as gentle as before and Steve could feel not only his intestines doing somersaults again but also some of his blood reroute to lower body parts._

_“Wow,” he breathed when they parted again and Clint could only nod._

_“I... uhm... you know...” he gestured at the door again. “I need to go up early tomorrow, I have class and then... then it's Tuesday and I have this job,” he grinned when Steve blushed._

_“Okay,” he nodded and Clint stepped back and he immediately felt a knot in his stomach, he didn't want to let him go. But Clint shook his head, moved forward again and pulled Steve's head down for another kiss. And this time he smiled broadly when they broke._

_“See you tomorrow?” Clint asked and Steve nodded with a smile. “Good night,” he murmured quietly and then he entered his dorm._

_“Good night,” Steve barely managed before the door fell shut. But he couldn't get the grin out of his face, not even when he had entered his room and his asshole room mate Loki snarled at him for waking him up. He still grinned when he finally lay in his bed, stared at the ceiling and touched his lips where he could still feel Clint's. He had kissed him and it was as beautiful as he always had imagined it._

 

 

“No.” Clint shook his head and Steve couldn't hold back a smile. “Not in the least.” Steve took a sip of his coffee and saw Darcy, Betty, Maria, Natasha and Pepper enter the cafeteria, grab their food and sit down together at the table where Clint usually sat with Tony and his other friends. 

“They're watching us,” he leaned over and Clint turned his head slightly and nodded.

Tony and Bruce appeared as well, grabbed food and went to the girls.

“Forget them. I just want to know...” Clint said, stopped himself and took a deep breath, “I just want to know if we... if you... you know...” 

“If we're gonna repeat yesterday?” Steve supplied and Clint nodded and blushed. 

“Yeah. Uhm... do you want to go on a date with me?” he asked too fast.

“Yes. Yes, I'd like that.” Steve smiled and Clint let out the breath he had held. “What about Saturday?” 

“That's... yeah, that's perfect. 7 pm?” And when Steve nodded Clint added, “Okay. That's a date, then.” 

“I'm looking forward to it,” Steve said but when Clint looked at his watch and winced he furrowed his brow.

“Darn, need to go to class. I have to ask Professor Dent a few things about my paper,” he said apologetically and Steve nodded.

“No problem.” Clint rose and took his rucksack. “See you later?” Steve asked and Clint nodded, turned, made two steps, saw the faces of his friends, turned back and leaned down to kiss him demonstratively and then he left the cafeteria with a smug smirk and a wink in their direction. 

And Steve ignored the looks he could feel, he just turned to his plate and continued to eat. But he also had a smug smirk on his face.


	28. None of your business, Baker.

No one could say that Clint Barton was body shy because he wasn't. He was so used to the fact that people looked at him that it never even occurred to him to be shy. After all, he grew up in a circus and he was in the ring in front of an audience before he even enrolled in school. And on the other hand, there really wasn't a reason, was it? Till now. Now he wasn't sure anymore. Clint stared into the small, broken mirror behind the folding screen and waited for Johnny to tell him what Greary wanted today and for the first time in his life he felt a little bit insecure. 

He knew that Steve had seen him before, it wasn't his first day here for heaven's sake, but this... this time it's different. All the other times he only had fantasized about Steve and now that he actually was sure that he could have him, that Steve wanted him as well, now he felt insecure. He couldn't help himself but to compare his body to Steve's. He hadn't seen too much of it but all those formfitting shirts he wore told him everything he needed to know. And then there was him. He looked again at himself, too short with too broad shoulders and all those prominent veins on his arms, his ugly fingernails and his knobbly fingers, his fuzzy hair and his nose and his eyes with its undefinable color and... 

“You ready?” Johnny peaked around the folding screen and Clint turned around to look at him and he saw his eyes snap up to Clint's. He had stared at his ass again. 

“Yeah.” He didn't sound ready. In fact, he realized that he sounded more ready to grab his stuff and run away than to go out and and pose for the class. 

“You alright?” Johnny asked and frowned and Clint huffed.

“None of your business. Let's get this done,” he padded behind him to the small pedestal in the middle of the studio where he found a shield, a spear and a helmet. He looked at the stuff and raised his brow.

“She wants a classical Greek warrior pose today. You have to hold the spear raised but only for ten minutes at a time, then we pause for a few minutes before you get in pose again. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Clint stared at the helmet again and sighed. But when he heard people arrive he grabbed the thing and put it on his head. He felt like an idiot with it.

“We wait till all are there before I get you in position. It well be stressful enough to hold the spear raised.” 

Clint nodded and took the shield and then he saw Steve arrive. He looked at him and when their eyes met Steve smiled and Clint flushed violently, he could feel it all over his body and he moved the shield a tiny bit to cover certain parts. But Clint couldn't hold back a smile himself even if he still felt like an idiot with the helmet on his head.

Steve went to his easel and put his sketchbook on it. He looked at his watch but then Professor Greary came in and greeted her students. Clint sighed. He had hoped that Steve could come over but then Johnny already showed him the pose Greary wanted him in. He was down on one knee, the shield at his side and the spear raised as if he would aim at an enemy attacking him. It wasn't too heavy, probably custom-build, but he was thankful that he had to hold it only ten minutes at a time. Luckily his dick was covered by the shield and his leg this time, just in case it became too interested in a certain football-player slash artist again. 

After ten minutes the kitchen timer Johnny had set went off and Greary nodded. Clint could lower the spear but Steve didn't stop to draw as well as a few of the other students. He could see the small woman looming over Steve's shoulder and pointing a few things out. Steve nodded and looked at Clint, blushed, smiled and looked down at his sketchbook again.

“So, you and Rogers, huh?” Johnny whispered when he came over after a few minutes.

“None of your business, Baker,” Clint growled and took the spear again. 

“So hostile? Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the TA shook his head and helped Clint to get into the same position as before and this time Clint was sure that Baker deliberately touched him more than necessary. And when he glared at him he could see that Steve looked up from his sketchbook and watched the two of them with furrowed brows. 

_Shit, already fucked up?_ Clint thought but when Johnny walked away to set the timer Steve's eyes followed him with this strange expression. _Was that... was that possessiveness?_

Once again Clint couldn't prevent the violent blush that crept over his skin and when he looked in Steve's direction he saw red tips on his ears. It was really embarrassing. He knew that Steve had seen him before, he had drawn him and Clint had seen the pictures. And he had shown even more in front of other men, had fucked in front of other men. Why was it this time so different?

And then it hit him. This time was different because this thing between him and Steve, it was real. It wasn't just a dream, an imagination anymore. Steve wanted him, actually wanted him, and he could have him and he didn't want others to see what was... well... technically only _Steve's_ to see. 

This time, when the timer went off, he didn't resist anymore. He turned, smiled at Steve and when he saw him blush again he winked. The next time Baker had to position him he was more rough than ever before. And Clint's grin broadened.


	29. Can I ask you a question?

Steve packed his stuff together but didn't leave the studio. Clint was behind the folding screen to get dressed and he waited for him. Not only because they wanted to go for a coffee afterwards but also because he had seen Baker's glances in Clint's direction. And he didn't like these glances. 

Baker made no secret of having the hots for Clint. But Baker was a creep. Steve knew a few guys he had... well... _molested_ , so to speak. He had never touched anyone but he had undressed more than one guy with his eyes, had made lewd comments and stuff like that. And lately he apparently had his eyes on Clint. 

Steve was pretty sure that Clint could hold his own – and after seeing him fight in the club he was pretty sure that he would wipe the floor with Baker and not even start to sweat – but when he finally came around the folding screen, dressed and his rucksack over his shoulder, a smile on his face and tiny red tips on his ears he was relieved. 

“So, coffee now,” Clint grinned and they left the studio together and when they walked over to the café Steve felt Clint's hand brush his and when he looked at him, Clint cocked his head... and then he took his hand. Steve blushed. But he didn't move his hand back, quite the contrary. He enjoyed to walk over the campus together with Clint holding his hand for everyone to see that he was his. And the smile that worked itself onto his face didn't disappear the whole time. Yes, everyone could see that Clint Barton, pretty, funny, witty, kind, nice and perfect Clint Barton, was his. And he also didn't care about the twinge of possessiveness when it came to Clint. 

When he saw one of his team mates sitting in the cafe and looking in his direction, his brow raised, he only shrugged and the guy, Sam, smirked and turned back to his drink and the girl at his table. 

Clint looked at him questioningly but Steve just steered him to a table and they sat down.

“You don't think you'll get problems with the guys in your team? For...” Clint gestured with his finger between the two of them but Steve shook his head. Apparently he had recognized Sam as one of the football team.

“No. They know about me. You know, I had dates before.” Steve chuckled but then they got interrupted by a waitress and Clint ordered his usual stuff, plain coffee, while he ordered cafe au lait. 

“Sam, that guy over there, he's the team captain.” Steve said and pointed at the guy who had looked in their direction as they entered the café. “When the other guys thought they could bug me for being gay I set them straight. And Sam gave them a piece of his mind when he found out. It wasn't pretty. At least, that's what I heard.”

“So, you're friends?” Clint asked and looked at Sam who just laughed about whatever his companion told him. He seemed nice.

“In a certain way, yes. It's not the same as with Phil, Betty, Maria, Jasper and Peggy, you know? But yes, we're friends.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” Clint looked up and Steve nodded.

“You don't need to ask that. You can ask me whatever whenever you want,” he said and Clint nodded and took a sip of his coffee. 

“Okay.” He reached over the table and took Steve's hand again. “You and Stark... what happened between the two of you? He seems always a little bit... well... negative.”

“He didn't tell you?” Steve stroked Clint's fingers with his thumb and once again he was astounded about the roughness of his hands. 

“No. He said he doesn't want to talk about it and we respected it.” 

“Did he tell you that I know him since we were children?” Steve asked and he saw Clint's eyes widen.

“Seriously?” He blurted out and Steve nodded and smiled.

“Yeah. We grew up together. My father was Howard Stark's driver and I lived at their mansion with my family. Tony and me, we used to be best friends and we went to kindergarten and to elementary school together and then middle school, high school... you know.” 

“I had no idea. Tony never talks about his past. But what happened?” Clint had emptied his coffee and waved at the waitress for another cup. Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I guess it was Howard's fault,” he said and Clint raised his brow. “Tony's father. I owe him a lot, though.” 

Steve scratched his head and took a sip from his mug. 

“Howard was... he expected really much from Tony. You know that he's a genius...” Clint snorted. Tony never let them forget this fact. “... but it never was enough for Howard. He always pushed him, challenged him. I think Tony tried to break out and that's why he experimented with alcohol and totaled Howard's Lamborghini and stuff like that before he was fifteen. They never get along too well and this? This ended their _relationship_.” 

“Wow, this is...” Clint trailed off and toyed around with his mug. “This is pretty steep.” 

“Yeah, I know. And on the other hand, he sponsored me, so to speak. I could go to the same private school as Tony. Howard payed for it. He wanted that Tony would have at least one friend there. And he even payed for my schooling when Tony had already left school. We started the same year but Tony had his diploma four years earlier than me. But nevertheless, he payed till I had my diploma as well. And he made it possible that I could study without worrying how to pay for it. And he even allowed me to call him Howard when I left high school, you know.”

“Sound like a generous man,” Clint said and Steve nodded.

“He was, just not to his own son,” he said and then he licked his lips. “Do you know that my father died the same day as Tony's parents?” 

“Tony once said his parents died in a car accident. Your father was their driver?” Clint asked and Steve nodded.

“Yes. That was the last time we talked. He accused me to have stolen his father and then my dad had killed him. My mom and me moved out of the mansion and I haven't seen him again... well... till I met him here again. He's here for his second degree, right?” 

“Yeah.” Clint nodded and then he added, “I'm sorry. For your dad, I mean.” 

“How did you end up in his little entourage?” Steve asked and had to smile himself when Clint started to grin.

“You know that physicists tend to be a little bit lazy with their math?” 

“He asked you to do his work?” Steve raised his brows and Clint chuckled slightly.

“No, just his math. And hey, to work with him is actual fun, he's brilliant, you know. I worked a week around him to help with his math and then he started to come over to my and Nat's table in the cafeteria. After a few weeks the whole bunch of crazies were there, too.” 

They stayed quiet for a few seconds, just held hands over the table.

“Maybe...” Clint started and looked at Steve now. “You and Tony, you've been friends. Maybe you should try to talk to him. Maybe...” he pursed his lips and looked out of the window. 

“Maybe I'll do it,” Steve said and when Clint smiled he leaned over the table, put a hand behind his neck and kissed him.


	30. Steve, you're jealous.

Steve managed not to think about Clint's other job the whole week but Friday, after class, when Clint said that he had to go he only reluctantly let him go. He even tried to convince him to call in sick and Clint had looked at him with a strange expression on his face. But officially Steve didn't know what his other job was and so he couldn't tell him that he didn't want to have him fight naked with other guys and either fuck them or get fucked by them. 

He called Phil and dragged him to a bar outside of the campus and Steve bought them two beers. He shoved Phil in a booth in the back of the bar but then he only sat opposite him and nursed his bottle. 

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Steve. Even for you.” Phil huffed after a few minutes and took a long swig from his beer. 

“Ridiculous,” Steve snorted. “Yeah, that's what I am.” 

Phil stopped half way down with his bottle and looked at Steve, his brows raised.

“Talk to me, for fuck's sake!” He finally said when Steve just toyed with his bottle around and stared angrily at the table.

“It's this... _job_ ,” he spat and it sounded like something disgusting. 

“Job? Barton's job?” Phil furrowed his brows, grabbed Steve's bottle out of his hands and put it down on the table. 

“Yes. He's there now and... and... fuck!” He took his bottle again and this time he drank. 

“Have you talked to him about his job?” Phil asked and once again, when Steve just toyed around with the bottle, he took it away and placed it back on the table. 

“What?! No! No. I... what can I say? Hey, Clint I know that you fight naked against other guys and...” he stopped himself and looked around if anyone of the people around them had heard him. 

“It's important that you tell him that you know, Steve. I mean, it's... it's huge, okay? It's not like a cough or something. You know this big part of his life that he tries to keep secret. You need to talk to him about it and then, maybe, you can tell him that you don't like it.” 

“It's not that...” Steve started but a snort from Phil stopped him immediately.

“It's not? Steve, you're jealous.” 

“What?! No! No, I'm not jealous,” he snorted and Phil raised a brow and nodded knowingly. “I'm not jealous,” he repeated. 

“Steve, it's okay to be jealous. I mean, right now he could...” Phil gestured with his finger and Steve blushed. “You know?”

“Fuck!” Steve emptied his bottle in one long sip and ordered another one for him and Phil. 

“How does this work, by the way? I mean, Romanov had said he can finance his whole college fees with this job and that he models for your class for some spending money.” 

“I don't know. The people there in the club seemed very wealthy and I guess they pay a lot not only for their amusement but also for discretion. I guess they pay their employees a lot to keep their mouths shut,” Phil said and took a sip from beer when it arrived. 

“Yeah, sounds plausible,” Steve nodded. But then he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I really hate this.” 

“Understandable,” Phil nibbled at he label from his bottle and then he looked at Steve. “Maybe he could find another way to get his fees paid?” 

“His parents are carnies, Natasha had said. They can't assist him financially. And since this college doesn't have a men's archery team... what, why are you smirking?” Steve furrowed his brows.

“Ah, just got this picture in my head. I had to watch this stupid movie with... uhm... you know, where this girl dresses up as boy to play soccer. I just imagined Barton in a dress, with his arms and legs,” he smirked and Steve couldn't hold back a small smile himself. 

“I doubt that he would pass for a girl,” Steve said and now he couldn't get the image out of his head as well. “But that's not helpful right now. With his background he never gets a student loan, his parents can't help him, he can't get a athletic scholarship because he's a guy and this college only has a woman's archery team. That's the situation.” 

“Pity that he doesn't play football,” Phil nodded and emptied his bottle. And Steve stared at him as if he's grown another head. 

“What? What's wrong?” Phil asked and he looked around slightly concerned. “Steve?” 

“That's it! That's the solution!” He blurted out and Phil furrowed his brows. 

“You want to get him in the football team? I don't think...” he started but Steve interrupted him with a vehement shook of his head.

“No. Not that. But... but I have an idea. It can... it can work.” He emptied his beer as well and gestured for another round. 

“But? I can clearly hear a but here.” Phil stated and Steve turned to him and took a deep breath.

“Yes, there is a but. I have to do something I actually don't want to do but... it's for Clint,” he took a long sip of his beer and then he leaned back. 

“You up to tell me?” Phil asked and Steve pursed his lips. 

“Not now. Soon. Now, Phil, now I want to know with whom you've watched this movie?” He changed the topic. 

“Uhm... I... actually...” Phil started to stammer and then he blushed. “It's Peggy.” 

“Seriously?” Steve's eyes went wide. “I mean, are you two... together?” 

“Uhm... yes. It seems so.” Phil shrugged.

“Wow.” Steve stared, his brow raised. It was the first time he heard about _that_.

“Well, I know that I'm not...” Phil defended himself when he saw his expression but Steve interrupted him with a broad smile.

“Don't be ridiculous, Phil! I'm happy for you, both of you.” 

“Really?” Phil frowned and toyed around with his bottle before he took a sip.

“What kind of question is that? Of course! I mean, you and Peggy, you make a good match. Hey, and maybe we can go on a double date someday?” 

“Really?” Phil repeated and when Steve nodded enthusiastically he smiled, “Yeah, I guess I'd like that.” 

“So, tell me. How long are you together now?” 

“Well, it started when we realized that you have the hots for Bar- Clint and we tried to find a way to get you together.....”


	31. Heilige Scheiße!

On his way back from the bar to his dorm – Phil had just left to go to his room – he decided to make a detour to the parking area. He wanted to see if Romanov's Corvette was back. Luckily it was a eye-catching car and so it should be easy to find if it was there. But he couldn't see it. He sighed and wanted to leave when he saw an old, battered beetle arriving. He smiled. His mom had had one of these years ago and he had loved it, loved the unique sound of it's engine. But then he got a glimpse of the driver.

He had seen that face before. In fact, it was burnt into his mind, impossible to erase. 

Steve once more looked over all the cars but no blood red corvette but the other guy left his beetle and walked in the other direction. He bit his lip, watched him leave but then he decided otherwise.

“Hey!” He yelled but the guy just walked on. “Hey!” Steve tried again but once more he just ignored him. He didn't know his name and so he tried something else. “Wait, Nightcrawler!” 

That worked. They guy spun around, stared at him wide eyed. 

“Heilige Scheiße!” He blurted out and then he looked around. “Will you shut up already?” he snarled and glared angrily at Steve. “How do you know that name, by the way?” Steve felt himself scrutinized but he just kept walking till he was close enough to talk to him without yelling all over the parking area. 

“Sorry, but I don't know your real name.” He apologized and the other boy – he was a little bit shorter than him – looked around once more. But they were alone. 

“What do you want?” He asked instead and Steve could hear a foreign accent and he was pretty sure his curse was German. 

“I didn't want to ambush you but I've just seen you and...” he licked his lips. Why did he stop him again? The other guy, Nightcrawler, raised his brow and waited for Steve to finally say what he wanted from him. He could see that he was tense.

“Sorry again. But I've seen you and...” 

“How do you know that name? I know that you don't work... uhm... where I work and you're pretty sure not one of the patrons. So, how do you know?” 

“I... I've been there. Once. I'm Steve, I'm Clint's... I'm a friend of Clint.” He wasn't sure if he could call himself Clint's boyfriend already. Or if he could call himself Clint's boyfriend ever. Not when he didn't stop snooping around in his life without him knowing. He still hadn't told him about his visit at the club. “I've seen you there, fighting against Clint.” 

“Okay.” The guy nodded but still stared at him with squinted eyes. “And what do you want from me now? An autograph?” His voice was dripping with irony. 

“No. Uhm... I... actually there's something I need to know.” He licked his lips and Nightcrawler cocked his head.

“Why don't you ask Clint?” he asked and Steve blushed violently. “Oh, he doesn't know that you've been there?” Dead on target. 

“Please, it's important, Night...” he started but the other guy shushed him immediately with a harsh gesture with his hand.

“Stop that. Kurt, okay. My name is Kurt.” 

“Okay... uhm... I have a few questions about the club and...” Kurt interrupted him, looked at his watch and sighed.

“It's late, you know. I'm tired, I had a fight just an hour ago. 

“Oh... okay,” he licked his lips again. 

“Not against Clint if that's your question. He's has to fight against Piledriver,” Kurt told him and apparently he read his expression correctly because then he added. “Should be a cinch. Clint is so much better than Brian.” 

“That's... that's good to hear.” Steve murmured but he didn't really feel reassured. 

“Listen, man. It's late. I'm tired, okay? If you want to talk to me then we better meet tomorrow.” He looked at his watch again. “Tomorrow is Saturday. I'm up at 8, what about coffee in...” 

“Uhm... could you... I mean, if it's not too strange... can we meet in my room? It's...” he blushed again. Kurt raised his brows and then a smile appeared on his face.

“You don't want to be seen with me just in case he finds out and thinks you're spying on him. Right?” He asked and Steve, bright red, nodded. “Make sure you have coffee. I'll be there.” 

Steve gave him his room number and finally went to his dorm. But not after looking one last time for a blood red Corvette. It wasn't there.

When he was on his floor and walked to his room he saw a sock over the doorknob and groaned inwardly. Loki apparently had a lady visitor. But the luck was on his side because he just wanted to walk away when he heard the door open and Loki and not only one but two girls – one of them was Becky – left the room. Becky and her friend both giggled and looked pretty messed up and when Steve only shook his head they both kissed a smug smirking Loki on his cheeks before they walked away.

“I hope you've opened the window,” he grumbled. He hated it when he wanted to sleep and it smelled so awfully of sex. Steve waited outside a few seconds till Loki opened the window, rolling his eyes theatrically. 

“You can come in, princess,” Loki said and Steve entered. He didn't see Baker, who lived on the same floor as him come around the corner and he also didn't realize that the doorsock was still on the knob and Baker had seen it.


	32. Wait and listen.

Steve knew that Loki would never admit it, not even while being tortured, but he was pretty vain. To stay in shape he jogs. Every morning. For a whole hour. Quite early during the week but at the weekends he 'slept in' and went around eight even if he's otherwise a lazy son of a bitch.

This Saturday he had just opened the door to leave when he turned around and looked at Steve. 

“There's a guy asking for you,” he said and Steve nodded. Loki rolled his eyes and left their shared room. And Kurt, the Nightcrawler, came in. Steve switched on the electric kettle and put instant coffee in two mugs. 

“I only have Coffee-mate here,” he said but Kurt shook his head. 

“No, thanks. But if you have sugar?” He asked.

“Sure,” Steve nodded, filled water into the two mugs, handed one to Kurt, gave him the sugar and stirred whitener in his mug before he took a sip. 

“So. You wanted to talk to me?” Kurt said. Steve nodded again and shoved his desk chair over so he could sit down while he, Steve, sat on his bed. 

“Yes. I have to admit it sounds a little bit stalkerish but... I have a good reason.” 

“I hope so.” Kurt took a sip from his mug and then he leaned back, looked around. “What do you want to know?” he asked after a few more seconds. 

“This club... How does this work? I mean... do they really pay so much that you can pay all your college fees?” 

“Uhm... no. It doesn't work this way. There's one thing you need to know but... you can never talk about.” 

“Okay.” Steve said, confused. 

“Hey, I mean it! If you ever tell anyone...” he said but Steve interrupted him.

“I understand. No talking about it.” 

“Okay.” Kurt took another sip from his coffee before he leaned back. “Do you know that I know Clint from his time in the circus?” He suddenly asked and Steve shook his head.

“No, he never said anything... but then, he doesn't know that I've been in the club.” 

“My parents were in the same circus as Clint's parents for one season.” He said and nodded. 

“What did they do?” Steve was curious about everything concerning Clint. 

“We're aerialists,” he said and when Steve frowned he added, “Flying trapeze, you know.” 

“And what has all this...” 

“Wait and listen,” Kurt smiled and emptied his mug. “When I was older I decided to leave the circus to study. But it's so much more expensive here than back in Germany. But I wanted to study here, you know. My parents knew a lot of guys and one of them told them about an arrangement with the club's owner and the dean of this university.” 

“Your parents know that you...” he interrupted Kurt again but he only shook his head.

“Wait and listen,” he repeated and then he looked in his empty mug. Steve blushed, hurried up to switch on the electric kettle again. 

“The fighting arena is not the only amusement in the club but it's by far the best payed. This guy my parents knew told them about the club and I started as artist. Flying trapeze. That what I've done the whole time. But I had to work in other jobs as well till Mr... our boss asked me if I wanted to try the fighting arena. I accepted. So I have more time for my studies, you know.” 

“But how does this work. You've said the dean knows about it?” Steve asked and Kurt snorted. 

“The dean? He's VIP member in the club.” Steve's eyes went wide as saucers, he stopped with the kettle midair and forgot to put water on the instant coffee powder for a full minute. 

“The... the dean? He... he's member?” He managed and only when Kurt gestured at the still empty mug Steve finally poured water over the coffee powder.

“VIP member. And he's not the only one,” Kurt corrected as if that was something important and probably it was. “But he and our boss made the deal, all students, who work in the club have to pay only a percentage of the original fees. Fighters have to pay twenty percent, dancers and artists forty and the waiting staff fifty. And that's a lot of money you don't have to pay. I have no idea how he accounts this but it works. Nearly all the guys working there are students here.” 

“And... and the twenty percent? How do you...” he asked and Kurt nodded.

“The club gives us a loan. We can pay it back as soon as we have a real job.” 

“That's really generous.” Steve didn't sound convinced but Kurt smiled.

“Do you have any idea about the clientele there? Maybe the building looks like a ruin from the outside but you've seen it. There's a garage behind the club for some of the more prominent clients and believe me, there _are_ prominent clients. And they not only don't want to be seen enter it, they also don't want us talk about them. Officially they are people like any other but the guys in there... actors, musicians, politicians, sportsmen... guys you'd never expect in a gay club.” 

“And that's why they pay you so much money,” Steve assumed and Kurt nodded again. 

“What have you seen of the club?” 

“The entrance hall, something like a salon, the restrooms and the fighting area.” Steve said.

“That's just a small part, you know? The club is huge. I mean, huge. And as a client you can have everything in there. Alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex... you name it, they have it. The clients pay horrible sums – I've heard a few of the top dogs talk about it one time – and they pay us for discretion.” 

“What if he... what if Clint wanted out? I mean, quitting.” 

“Then he would have to pay all the fees the club has already payed in one sum.” Kurt said and Steve paled.

“And Clint? How did he...” 

“Oh, yes. Like I've said. I knew him from the circus. I've been already here at the university when he came to visit it and he recognized me. We talked and he said that he just wanted to take a look but he couldn't afford the fees. He said, that he probably would take one of the athletic scholarships but he also said that it's a shame because this university has one of the best mathematical faculties in the world. I've seen that he really wanted to be here and so I've told him about the club and introduced him to our boss and they accepted him.” 

“You've said something about... about sex?” Steve asked, his mouth dry and he was barely able to swallow. 

“Yes. There are sex workers. But they are in the red section. We're not admitted there.” Kurt said and Steve stared at him for another long moment. 

“But...” Steve wanted to ask but this time Kurt shook his head.

“That's all I can tell you and I only told you because I know that you're Clint's boyfriend and he trusts you that you wouldn't do anything to harm him.”

“He... he said I'm his...” Steve's eyes went comically wide and he had to put down his mug, his hands were shaking.

“You're not?” Kurt asked concerned now.

“I... I just wasn't sure if he... well... sees me _that_ way. Already,” he stammered and Kurt rolled his eyes, placed his empty mug on Steve's desk.

“Do you know what he talked about yesterday? You. The whole evening, when we had time, he talked about you. Brian had said that he needed to win to shut him up for at least a few minutes.” Kurt rose. “If you're the guy he sees in you then you won't harm him and then you won't talk about anything I've told you.” He walked over to the door and Steve followed him. “And hey, I don't mean to pry but maybe you should talk to Clint about the club. That you know, I mean. He's worried enough how you would react when he tells you and... you know.” 

“Yes, I know. And I... I'll talk to him.” He opened the door and Kurt left but outside of the room he stopped and looked at him. “There's a sock on the doorknob.” 

Steve blushed violently, reached around and removed it quickly. “That's from my roommate.” 

“Sure,” Kurt smirked. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said before he left with a grin. He once again didn't see Johnny Baker in the floor, staring at him, at the sock and at Kurt. And the evil grin on his face.


	33. A date? With you?

Clint sat in the library, working on his paper when someone touched his shoulder. He was so concentrated, he hadn't heard anyone and so he nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“The fuck!” he hissed. And when he saw Johnny Baker he just rolled his eyes. But the other guy didn't realize that he was unwelcome. He just grabbed a chair and sat down opposite of him. 

“Go away,” he said but Baker started to smirk.

“Trouble in paradise? After just a few days?” he leaned back and looked smug at him.

“I have no idea what you're talking about and honestly, I have no patience for you now.” He had no plan how to continue and he hit the books every spare moment and it slowly drove him to despair. He had filled three notepads with equations and still not a solution for his problem and now he went back to the library to read more books. 

“I don't know. It looks a lot like trouble when you're hiding in the library and your loverboy has male visitors in his room,” he scratched his beard but didn't get the smug smirk out of his face. Clint stared at Johnny for a long moment, his brows knitted and he could see that it made him uncomfortable. “Doorsock is the magic word.” 

“Okay. What the fuck are you talking about?” Clint finally huffed, threw his pen on the table and glared at Baker. 

“Rogers, doorsock, another guy. And he left this morning after drinking coffee together.” 

“How do you know?” Clint asked and Baker grinned again and scratched his beard. 

“Oh, you know. My room's just three doors away from him. Last night he went in his room with a guy. You know, doorsock. And this morning the guy left and thanked him for the coffee. Did he invite you for coffee in his room?” 

“He has a roommate. Maybe it was him.” Clint tried but Baker raised one brow and cocked his head.

“Hello? I live on the same floor as the two of them. Don't you think I know Loki by now? The guy this morning was definitely not our resident super asshole.”

“Shut up. Okay? Shut up.” Clint closed the books in front of him and glared at Baker. “And go away.” 

“Ah, Barton, I'm afraid I can't do that. You remember that you owe me?” Baker asked and Clint took a deep breath. 

“What do you want?” he asked and Johnny's grin broadened. 

“As chance would have it, the guys from Phi Kappa Delta have a party this evening. And I need a date.” 

“A date? With you? You're kidding?” Clint blurted out. 

“You owe me, Barton.” Baker folded his hands over his stomach and scrutinized Clint. 

“I've thought I'm going to wash your car or something like that. I definitely don't go on a date with you. And by the way I'm in a relationship as you maybe remember.” Clint stated and pursed his lips when the smirk was back on Baker's face.

“But your _boyfriend_ already fucks other guys.” Baker leaned forward now and tapped his finger against the table. Clint stared at it and deliberated what trouble it would get him into when he would break it.

“That's not proven.” Clint said and folded his arms over his chest. 

“Doorsock? You know what that means, right?” He looked away, didn't want to see Baker's face right now. Of course he knew what a sock on the doorknob meant. He'd used it himself, much to Bruce's displeasure. But maybe it was just harmless? Steve wouldn't cheat on him, would he? Not after just a few days. But what if he was already tired of him? Of his secretiveness with his job? What if...

“This evening. Party.” Baker said and jolted him out of his thoughts.

“Why don't you get a real date? Why me?” he asked and Johnny shrugged.

“Maybe I want to get my ex-boyfriend, who happens to be a Phi Kappa now, jealous?” he admitted, took Clint's pen and started to toy around with it. 

“Once again: why don't you get a real date, then?” He looked him over. Johnny Baker wasn't an eye-catcher, not like Steve, but he was no Quasimodo as well. If he would shave off that ugly beard and get a haircut, maybe some new clothes, he shouldn't have troubles to find a decent guy. 

“Why you. Good question, isn't it?” Clint sighed and rolled his eyes. Baker sounded like a bad copy of some Bond villain. But then he shrugged again. “Do you know who my ex is?” 

“No. And honestly, I don't care about your love life, Baker.” He huffed frustrated and Baker smirked again. 

“Wade Wilson.” 

Clint, who just wanted to rise and leave the library sat down again. “You? You've been with Wade Wilson?” 

“Yep.” Baker nodded and Clint stared at him for a whole minute. 

“Okay. Deal. You have your date for tonight. But if you touch me or look at me funny you'll eat your breakfast through a straw.” 

“Okay, I can live with that.” 

This time Clint grabbed all his stuff, put it in his rucksack and left. But he took his phone and typed a message.

**Steve, we need to talk. C.**


	34. No party for Barton.

**Steve, I don't know if you've gotten my last text but please call me. C.**

 

***

 

**Steve, is everything okay? Can you please call me? Or at least send a text? C.**

 

***

 

**Uhm, okay. I guess you can't write or call. I owe Baker a favor, he asked me to go to a party with him. It's tonight and I agreed. Just wanted to let you know. C.**

 

***

 

**Hey, Steve. I'm really worried. What's wrong? Did I do something, say something? Is it because of the party? Please, call me if you can. C.**

 

***

 

**I just called Phil. He also doesn't know where you are, Steve. C.**

 

***

 

**Hey Nat, I know you and Bucky are away for the weekend but I don't know what to do. Steve doesn't answer and I'm worried. And... I think I've done something dumb. C.**

**What have you done? Nat**

**I've told you about the favor I owe Baker? He called it in. C.**

**What does that cretin want? Nat**

**He wants to make is ex jealous and... maybe I agreed to go on a party with him. C.**

**With Baker? You? Are you completely out of your mind, you fool? Be thankful that I'm not there or I would kick your ass! Nat**

**Maybe I'm out of my mind. But Steve doesn't answer and I'm worried and... and his ex is Wade Wilson. C.**

**NO!! No way you go on that party with him! I forbid you to go with him! Nat**

**I already agreed. C.**

**Then call him off! You don't go anywhere near Wilson, Barton, or I swear to god you will regret it! Nat**

**I cannot do that. I owe him. C.**

**You owe him jack shit! Clint, use your brain. You know what happened the last time. And now you have Steve. Don't go to that party! Nat**

**Steve doesn't answer. That's what I told you. I called him, I texted him, even Phil doesn't know where he is. C.**

**Stay put, I'll get to you in a few. Need to call someone. Nat**

***

 

Yeah?  
Tony, Natasha here. I need you.  
Oh, already done with Barnes?  
What? No. Shut up and listen. Clint is going to do a big – and with big I mean capital letters big – mistake. You need to stop him.  
What's he up to?  
I'll explain later. Just make sure that he doesn't go to this party tonight.  
Oh, that sounds mysterious. Do I get an explanation?  
Yes, as soon as we're back. Just don't let him go to the party. It's important.  
Why don't you call that golden boy?  
He doesn't answer his phone.  
All right. Keep Barton away from the party. Understood. I hope it's a dirty or shocking secret.  
There's someone at that party and the last time they met he almost got expelled.  
Really? I can't await that story.  
Tony!  
Yeah, yeah. I know. No party for Barton.  
Thanks.  
Anytime. 

 

***

 

**Phil, any idea what's wrong with Steve? Nat**

**I don't know. Haven't seen him the whole day and he doesn't answer his phone. Phil**

**I know. I've tried it. Clint tried it. He's worried and now I think he's going to do something dumb. Stark promised to hold him back. Nat**

**Stark? Do you think he's the right person for this? I mean, if you search in a lexicon for dumb decisions you'd find a photo from Stark. Phil**

**I know I will regret that I ever said this but sometimes he has his good sides. Nat**

**You know him better than me. Phil**

**So, you have no idea where Rogers is or what he does? Nat**

**Nope. Clint texted me and I've texted the others. He left this morning and no one has seen him. Phil**

**Fuck! Nat**

**I know. Phil**

***

 

**Barton, I need your help. I'm working on a project and I need someone for the math. T.**

**What, right now? C.**

**Yes, right now. T.**

**But I don't have much time. C.**

**Then you have to do the math fast. ;) T.**

**Don't you have someone else? I've got something on tonight. C.**

**Nope. You're my favorite math-slave. T.**

**Aww, come on. There are like hundreds of students here in the math faculty. C.**

**You're the best. I want you! Come on, it's just a few minutes. T.**

**Fine. Just a few minutes. C.**

***

 

**Philip, I know that Clint, you and your friends try to contact Steve. My brother shares the room with Steve and he said that he forgot his phone and the constant ringing annoys him and he would appreciate it if you could stop calling Steve. Thor Odinson**

 

***

 

**Mission accomplished! Tony**

 

***

 

**Where the fuck have you been? I've been waiting for you, asshole! J.**

**My phone malfunctioned. Sorry. C.**

**Yeah? That's a lame excuse, Barton. You'll be sorry for that! J.**

**You know what? Fuck you, okay! Fuck! You! C.**

***

**Oh my god, 42 missed messages and calls? I've been away for just a few hours. I'm sorry for not calling, Clint, but I forgot my phone in my room. I'll call you tomorrow, promise!! Yes, you're right. We need to talk. I love you. Steve.**


	35. Where have you been?

Steve sat in the cafe to drink a hot chocolate and draw when suddenly six persons appeared at his table, Phil, Peggy, Betty, Darcy, Natasha and Thor. 

“Hello,” Steve said slowly and looked from one to the other. The approaching six sat down around the table – Thor and Phil borrowed chairs from another table – and Steve put the mug down and closed his sketchbook. 

“Guys?” 

“Where have you been?” Betty asked straightforward and the others nodded. 

“I had things to do.” He folded his arms in front of his chest but then he realized that this looked defensive and he placed both hands on the table. 

“You do realize that you disappeared for a whole day without your phone and we needed Stark to distract Clint with a math-problem from doing something he would regret, right?” 

“My brother complained about your phone constantly beeping,” Thor added and turned around to look for a waiter. 

“What do you mean your brother... Loki? He's your brother?” Steve stared at Thor incredulously. 

“You live with him in a room and you didn't know?” Thor furrowed his brows.

“He... we don't talk too much and he never mentioned that he has a brother.” Steve shrugged and when he saw Thor's face fall he frowned. 

“Where have you been,” Betty interrupted their conversation with her initial question. 

“Like I've said, I had things to do. And I'm pretty sure that Clint doesn't want me to talk about it,” he said and looked explicitly at Natasha. She understood and nodded but her brows were furrowed. She wanted to know but not now. 

“Did Clint mention that he thinks he owes Baker a favor?” she asked instead and Steve put his mug down.

“Baker? As in Johnny Baker?” Steve asked. 

Natasha raised her brow again. “How many Bakers do you know?” she asked and Steve opened his mouth to tell her that, actually, when he and his mom moved out of the Stark mansion the name of the family in the house on their left was Baker but that wasn't relevant right now. He closed his mouth and scratched the back of his head. 

“Okay, tell me,” he sighed. He knew that it wasn't good manners to vanish without talking to Clint but he didn't want to tell him in case nothing would come of it. But now he had a plan and there was only one person he needed to talk to left, well, two persons if you count Clint. 

“Do you know Wade Wilson?” Peggy asked and Steve shook his head. 

“We learned that Wilson is Baker's ex and that Baker tried to make him jealous because he got dumped.” Natasha added.

“Yeah, as if Wilson would take him back,” Peggy snorted and Steve frowned. He had never heard her talk so disparaging about someone else.

“What's the problem with this guy?” Steve asked now. 

“They fought.” Natasha said matter-of-factly as if that was everything they needed to know. But when Steve cocked his head she sighed, rolled her eyes and added, “Wilson is an asshole who doesn't know when to stop or when to shut up. He picked on a few freshmen, insulted them and Clint tried to stop him. They fought and when the campus security stopped them they both were nearly expelled. Since then they can't stand each other.” 

“Wilson's a bastard. He destroyed Maria's laptop just because she sat on _his_ place,” Betty added.

“And Baker wanted to make Wilson jealous by going to the party with Clint?” Steve asked now and when Betty and Natasha nodded he shook his head.

“First, I don't know why someone would be together with such a bully,” Steve said, “and then, I don't get it. Why would Clint go with Baker to a party to make Wilson jealous?” 

“Because apparently when Clint's ankle was hurt Baker convinced your professor to chose a sitting position and now he thinks he owes him a favor and Baker called it in.” Natasha said.

“And because a certain someone disappeared without a word – or his phone – another certain someone was worried at first, then desperate, then became angry and decided to go with Johnny fucking Baker to a party where he would've met Wade Wilson if our resident super genius couldn't've distracted him.” Darcy added and pointed with her spoon accusingly at him. Steve immediately felt guilty. Okay, he should've told anyone that he was away for the day that he had to talk to someone from his past and he should've taken his phone with him. But it was impossible to tell Clint. He didn't want to raise his hopes and then destroy them if his plan didn't work. 

“I... I couldn't tell him. It's...” he started and then Thor of all people shook his head disapprovingly. 

“You know that Jane and I are together since we met when we started here?” The huge guy asked and Steve shook his head. No, he didn't know. He only knew about Thor's existence because he was a friend of Clint and since he was fascinated by Clint from the very first moment he had seen him he also learned the names of his friends. 

“One of the _secrets_ in a relationship is, that you need to talk to your partner. Don't keep secrets. Secrets are destructive if you want this to work.” Thor nodded at him and when Steve sighed he continued. “You want this to work and I know that Clint wants this to work. So, talk to each other. Talk to him! Tell him why you have been away. Do not keep secrets.” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose but then he nodded. Thor was right. He shouldn't keep secrets. He needed to talk to him. But first... first he needed to talk to someone else. He needed to talk to Tony Stark.


	36. The job is dangerous and I'm worried.

Steve took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second and then he opened the door to the diner. He saw him sitting at a table, a mug in front of him and stirring in it and reading something on a tablet computer. With another sigh he went over to his table and without comment he sat down opposite of him. Tony finally looked up, put his tablet onto the table and leaned back. 

“Rogers,” he nodded and Steve – once more – took a deep breath.

“Thanks for coming, Tony,” he said and when the waitress came over he ordered chamomile tea. He couldn't drink coffee right now, not with this conversation he had to have. 

“So, _you_ need _my_ help?” Tony asked and he looked maybe a little bit too smug for Steve's peace of mind. 

“I wouldn't ask you if I had another option,” he admitted and Tony raised his brow.

“Yeah, that much I figured out myself. Okay, what's your problem?” 

“Clint,” he said and when both of Tony's brows hit his hairline he added, “Or better his job. And since he and you are friends...” he stopped himself. Tony nodded and suddenly all the smugness was gone and he leaned his arms onto the table.

“Again. What's your problem?” He asked. They waited for a few seconds when the waitress came to bring Steve's tea. He thanked her and then he turned back to Tony.

“What do you know about his job?” Steve asked instead of an answer.

“He never talks too much about it. He only says that he can pay his fees with it.” Tony shrugged, grabbed his mug and took a long sip.

“Okay. Uhm... officially I don't know anything about it. But I found out. I had to promise Natasha to not tell anyone about it,” he said and Tony rolled his eyes. “At least not as long as Clint says it's okay. Fact is, this job is dangerous.” 

“Dangerous? As in...” 

“... getting bodily harmed. You've seen him limping and with a shiner not long ago. So, yes. This job is dangerous.”

“And why are we talking about it?” Tony asked now and pursed his lips. 

“Believe me, I wouldn't ask you if I had another option...” Steve started but Tony interrupted him with a harsh gesture.

“Are you trying to ask me to pay for his fees?” He furrowed his brows but Steve shook his head.

“No. We both know that he wouldn't accept that even _if_ you would doing it.” Tony squinted his eyes but he stayed where he was, waved the waitress over and ordered more coffee. 

“So, and why am I here then?” Tony folded his arms in front of his chest.

“I actually had an idea. One, I think, he – and you by the way – can live with.” Steve removed the teabag, put it on his spoon, wrapped the string around it and squeezed the last drops of tea out of it before he placed it on his saucer. 

“Wait, wait, wait... what the heck are we talking about. Are you asking me now to pay for his fees or not?” Tony seemed confused.

“No, I'm not. I've met Obadiah Stane and...” Steve wanted to explain but Tony interrupted him, his eyes wide but his brows furrowed angrily.

“You? You talked to Obie?” he blurted and glared at him.

“Yes. I'm sorry for not coming to you first but I needed to know if there was an option. Stane said that Stark Industries sponsors extraordinarily good athletes.” 

“That's true, but...” Tony said but Steve only took his phone, searched for the video clip he had made from Clint the last time he had watched him shooting and handed it to Tony. He pursed his lips while watching the clip.

“That's Barton?” he asked then and gave the phone back to Steve. “By the way, you shouldn't use Samsung, the new StarkPhone is much better.” 

“First, I can't afford the StarkPhone and second, yes, that's Clint. So, what do you say?” Steve took a sip from his cup and watched Tony think.

“I mean, I knew that he's an archer. He told us. He just never said how good he is. I'm not a shooter but even _I_ can see that he's really good. Why didn't he get an athletic scholarship?” Tony looked up and Steve huffed a tiny laugh.

“That's the problem. This university doesn't have a men's archery team and he rejected two scholarships to be _here_ , on this university. He said here's one of the best mathematical faculties in the world...” 

“That's true,” Tony interjected. 

“... and he wanted to study here,” Steve continued. “And to pay his fees he took this job. But as I said, the job is dangerous and I'm worried.” 

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, then he emptied his mug and stared at the ceiling afterwards.

“Okay. Let me make a few calls. I'll contact you tomorrow,” he said, threw a handful of bills onto the table, grabbed his tablet and rose. “I don't make any promises but...” he pressed his lips together. “I like Barton. Even if I don't approve his taste in men.” He shrugged and turned to leave.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve called after him and Tony turned around to look at him. “Thanks.” He looked at Steve for a moment, then nodded, turned and left. 

He sighed. Now he needed to talk to Clint. Again.


	37. I can explain that!

Steve found him on the trainings ground for the girls archery team. It was already dark but Clint, the hood of his sweater over his head like usual, shot onto the target in front of him. He went down to him and when Clint put his bow down he knew that he had seen him. 

“Hey,” he said but Clint didn't answer, he just folded the arms of his bow and put it into its case. “Clint...” he started and this time he turned around. “I'm sorry.” Clint raised one brow, pursed his lips and went back to his bow. “I understand that you're angry but I had my reasons.” Clint still was quiet but he stopped, put both hands beside his bowcase and let his head hang down for a second. “I know I shouldn't have gone without telling you. Or at least not without my phone.” Clint snorted and gritted his teeth. “Talk to me, please. Yell at me, insult me but please, say something.” He put his rucksack and his sketchbook beside Clint's bowcase, grabbed his arm and turned him so Clint had to look at him. 

“It's...” he started but then he shut up again. “You don't have to explain anything. You can do whatever you want, Steve.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Steve was confused. He had expected him to be angry but Clint acted strange. “Of course I should have. I know that and I'm sorry.” 

“Well, apparently you had other things to do,” Clint said cryptically and Steve could see him swallow.

“Yes, that's what I wanted to talk to you about...” Steve started but Clint shook his head.

“No need to. I understand. I'll get out of your hair.” 

“What?” Steve furrowed his brows. Something just went really wrong.

“I've had enough time to think. And I think I understand now. It's better when I do my thing and you do your thing.” He ran his hand through his hair and the hood dropped onto his shoulder. Steve could see his face properly now. He looked as if he hadn't slept for days.

“Clint... I... I don't understand.” He really didn't. Of course he should have told him about his dialogue with Stane but he had no idea why Clint was so distant right now. 

“Do you?” He asked and looked him in the eyes but when he furrowed his brows Clint just nodded. “Yeah, maybe you really don't understand. I've thought you really meant what you've said. Apparently I'm not as good in reading people as I've always thought.” 

“Clint, please. I really don't know what you're talking about. Yes, I've been away but I had to talk to a man who...” 

“I'm talking about the doorsock. I'm talking about the other guy in your room.” Clint said and Steve felt himself pale and then blush.

“I can explain that!” He blurted out and Clint snorted again.

“Why did I know that you would say that?” He asked and Steve could hear a bitter streak in his voice. 

“Baker told you, right?” Steve asked and after a few seconds Clint finally nodded. 

“My roommate Loki had ladies visitors the night before and when he threw them out he forgot to remove the sock. You can ask them. One of them was Becky.” 

“And the guy in your room that wasn't Loki?” Clint asked and folded his arms in front of his chest.

“That was just someone who helped me with a problem. And he came in the morning, we drank coffee, we talked, he left. That was everything,” he explained.

“Who?” Clint asked and Steve had to swallow. And then he wanted to hit the back of his own head. Of course Clint had seen that.

“I can't tell you,” he said and when Clint huffed a bitter laugh he added quickly, “Not yet. I will tell you, but first I need to...”

Clint reached for his bowcase while Steve tried to explain that he had talked to Kurt without revealing that he had talked to Kurt. But then he accidentally touched the sketchbook and it fell down. And while falling it opened and revealed one of the drawings from Clint fighting naked against Kurt. 

He stared down at the picture, his mouth open, his eyes wide in shock and then he looked at Steve, betrayal and shame in his face. 

“Clint! I... I can explain that!” He said hastily but it was too late. Clint shook his head and when he wanted to follow him he raised his hand and stopped him wordlessly, grabbed his bowcase and his quiver and turned. “Clint! Wait! Let me explain!” 

“No,” he shook his head again and walked away. 

“Clint! Please....” he started to run.

“Shit!” Steve screamed. He had fucked it up and he knew it. He should've talked to him. “Shitshitshit!”


	38. What happened?

Natasha sat in her room, brooding over some books (no, she would never admit that she needed to learn to get good grades) when she heard a knock. She didn't expect Bucky at this time, he wanted to be here in an hour he had said. With a sigh she opened the door but she didn't expect Clint standing outside. She looked at him and in half a second she knew that something was wrong. Luckily Sharon, her room mate, wasn't here today.

“Get in,” she said and opened the door further to let him in. He stood in her room and looked around, unsure what to do, as it seemed. He just had his hands around his arms but Natasha just shook her head and shoved him onto her chair. 

She sat on her bed, took his hands. “What happened?” 

Clint stayed quiet for a few seconds and just looked at their locked hands.

“I... I don't know. I think I fucked it up.” He said and Natasha furrowed her brows.

“What happened?” she repeated and Clint shrugged. 

“He knows,” he whispered and cast his eyes down. “I don't know why, but he knows.” 

“He? Steve?” She asked and after a few more seconds Clint nodded. “What does he know?” Right now she felt the urge to grab Clint's shoulders and shake him but she needed to stay patient, she knew him long enough. 

“My... my job. I have no idea how but... but he knows.” A sob escaped his lips and Natasha closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew that Steve had found out about his job. “I should've told him,” he whispered and put his face in his hands. 

“Clint, come on. Tell me what happened,” she said again. 

“We talked about... he said he wanted to explain why he was gone and... and then... I've asked him about the guy Baker had seen and... his sketchbook slipped down and he had a picture in it. From me fighting in the club.” 

“Did he say anything about the picture?” Natasha asked very carefully but Clint shook his head.

“No. I... I ran away.” He looked up and she could see a few tears in his eyes. “I fucked it up, Nat.” 

“Wait, why did you fuck it up?” She furrowed her brows and he shrugged again.

“I should've told him,” he said again, barely audible and Natasha couldn't hold back a sigh. 

“Yes, you probably should've talked to him about it. But he knew about your job and got into that relationship nevertheless, so that doesn't seem to be the problem here.” 

Clint cocked his head, confused, his brows furrowed.

“You... you mean he knew... he knew _before_?” And then Natasha remembered how good Clint's eyes really were and how good he knew her because she was well aware that he saw the tiny twitch. “And you knew that he knew!” He sat up abruptly, his back straight and he glared at her. “You knew that?” 

“Yes, I knew,” she said, didn't even try to deny. 

“Who else knows?” His voice was very calm now. Too calm. 

“Clint, calm down,” she tried but he rose, towered over her and asked again, his voice raised now.

“Who, Natasha!” 

“Phil. Phil knows, Steve knows, I know.” 

“Phil? Coulson? How... why?” He started to pace, ran his hand through his hair and didn't care that he messed it up. 

“I've talked to Phil. He said that Steve was upset and needed someone to talk to.” When Clint opened his mouth to say something she cut him short. “No one, not Steve, not Phil, no one revealed your secret, Clint.” 

“But how can I look anyone in the eye again? I mean, I know it's just a job but... they _know_!” 

“And they keep quiet. _We_ keep quiet,” she said, rose, grabbed Clint's arm and dragged him back to the chair to sit him down. “No one will reveal your secret, Clint. And we don't think less of you because of it.” 

“And why does Steve then have other guys in his room? With a sock at the door? And why does he make up stories that it's from his roommate?” 

“Did you ask him?” Natasha cocked her head and Clint half nodded, half shrugged.

“Yeah. He said something that his room mate had some girls there and they forgot to remove the sock and the guy in his room was just someone who helped him. But I'm not sure, maybe he...”

“... lied? Honestly? Mr. Boyscout himself? You really think _Steve_ lied? He doesn't even know how to lie!” Natasha smirked and Clint glared angrily at her.

“He didn't tell me...” he started but she interrupted him again.

“That's a huge difference. He didn't tell you that he knows about your job. But that's not a lie.” Clint glared at her for a few more seconds but then his features softened and he flopped down on the bed beside her. 

“This is all so fucked up,” Clint groaned and buried his face in her cushion. 

“Yes. And that's why you two idiots should finally talk and I mean _talk_ , not only beat around the bush.” 

He just rose and opened his mouth to say something when they got interrupted by another knock at the door. Natasha cursed in Russian and when Clint sighed she rose and opened the door. Bucky was outside and when he saw Clint in Natasha's bed he raised his brow. 

_Trouble in paradise_ she mouthed and Bucky nodded. But when she turned back Clint already stood. 

“Sorry, I... I leave you two alone,” he went to the door.

“Hey, you don't...” Bucky started but Clint shook his head and squeezed past him. 

“Thanks for the talk, Nat,” he said and slammed the door shut. 

“Shit!” Natasha cursed again and shook her head when Bucky looked at her questioningly. “I guess it's time to adopt drastic measures or these two muppets fuck it up entirely.” 

“Does that mean no sex?” Bucky asked but he had a tiny smirk on his face. Natasha folded her arms in front of her chest, squinted her eyes and scrutinized him till he shrugged apologetically. 

“Take your phone, Barnes. We need to make a few calls.”


	39. Hey, guys. What's up?

As soon as Johnny Baker left his dorm, Natasha and Bucky closed in on him. He stepped back and when he hit the wall behind him he looked from Nat to Bucky and back.

“Hey, guys,” he grinned nervously and licked his lips. “What's up?” he tried it casual but failed miserably. 

“Tell me,” Natasha said and folded her arms in front of her chest. “What did you say to Clint?” 

“I... I don't know what you mean?” he said and Bucky placed his right hand beside Baker's face and smirked at him.

“Really?” he just asked and the other man swallowed. 

“I... I... I mean, I said a lot of things to him and I don't know what exactly you mean?” Baker tried again and this time Natasha moved, closed up to Bucky and placed her left hand onto the other side of Baker's face.

“Maybe you want to think that over?” she asked. Baker swallowed again and his eyes darted from Bucky to Natasha and back once more. 

“Hey, maybe...” he started and Natasha huffed. 

“Maybe what, _Johnny_?” she said, her voice cold as ice and the guy tried to crawl into the wall behind him. 

“Maybe I've talked about a guy in Roger's room?” he admitted and Bucky started to grin. 

“There we go,” he muttered. “And now, you're telling me _who_ 's been in Roger's room,” he added then. 

“I... I don't know him,” Johnny started to stutter and he paled when Natasha closed up to him even more. 

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,” she whispered. “You think you're so clever. Messing around with my best friend, trying to destroy his relationship, making him unhappy, not a wise decision, Johnny,” she murmured in his ear and Baker somehow managed to pale even more. 

“I... I... really... I...” he stuttered and Bucky honest to god started to growl.

“You what?” Natasha hissed and Baker almost peed himself. 

“I didn't want to mess around with him, you have to believe me,” he stammered and now it was Natasha who raised one of her perfectly shaped brows. 

“No? You blackmailed him to go to a party with you, you told him his boyfriend cheats on him and you have the balls to tell me you didn't want to mess around with Clint? What would you call it then?” 

“He didn't go to a party with me, he stood me up,” Baker finally dared to hiss back at them. 

“Yes, because we moved heaven and hell to keep him away from you asshole,” Bucky spat and Baker tried to jump back, realized that he was pressed against the wall and made an ungainly jerk instead. And he hit the back of his head in the attempt to not fall down. 

“And now, spit it out,” Natasha snarled. “Who was in Roger's room?” 

“Honestly, I don't know him. He was... he had dark hair and was tall and slim but... but not skinny. Oh, and... he had a foreign accent, something European I think,” he said. 

Natasha looked at Bucky but he just shrugged. He didn't know him, too. 

“More details?” Bucky asked and Baker paled a bit. But then, suddenly, his face lit up. 

“Loki knew him!” he blurted. 

“Loki? As in Steve's roommate?” Bucky asked and Baker pursed his lips.

“How many Loki's do you know?” he asked and when Natasha cleared her throat he paled even more.

“That's a job for Thor, I guess,” she muttered and Bucky nodded, took his phone, typed a message and sent it to Loki's brother. They both turned around to leave Baker alone but then Natasha turned back again. 

“Oh, and Baker,” she snarled when the other guy's head snapped up. “If you ever talk to Clint or look at him funny again I swear to god I skin you alive, _Baker_.” He was pale like a ghost but he nodded. Together, side by side, Bucky and Natasha disappeared around a corner.

“You know, you're evil badass bitch performance... _I skin you alive_...” he grinned and when Natasha looked at him his grin broadened. “I'm rock hard right now,” he whispered. 

Natasha grinned, too.


	40. Why would I want to help him?

Thor knew that Steve wasn't in his room when he knocked at the door. But he hoped Loki was there. He didn't know his brother's schedule since they only seldom talked. Loki didn't take it too well when he learned that he was adopted and that he, Thor, would inherit the lion's share of Asgard Incorporated when their father would retire. 

And so Loki decided to _punish_ his family with denying their existence. 

Thor knocked again when no one opened immediately but then, after another long moment, the door went open and Loki, with only his boxers on, stood there and raised his brow when he recognized him. 

“What do you want?” Loki asked, turned around and walked back into his room. Thor had never been in Loki's dorm room but he saw which part of the room his. One side was tidy and clean, the bed was made, the desk was perfectly organized and in the book shelf were piles of sketchbooks, textbooks and other drawing supplies. And Thor saw a framed drawing of Clint over the bed. It was beautiful, Steve was really talented. 

The other side of the room looked like Loki's room at home before the housemaid cleaned it up. The bed was unmade, his clothes lay on the desk chair, the shelf was a mess, the wardrobe was open and a mess, too, and Thor could see not a single textbook or something else from college in this part of the room.

“I want to talk to you,” Thor said and searched for a place to sit down. In the end, he just borrowed Steve's desk chair. Loki smirked and sat down on his bed which started to stir. When Thor raised a brow a very blond head appeared from under the covers and looked around confused. 

“I'm busy,” Loki said and grinned. 

“It won't take much time,” he said and Loki looked at the blonde girl with the very short hair. 

“Can you get us some coffee, Becky?” Loki asked with a theatrical sigh and the girl nodded. 

“Sure,” she left the bed and Thor looked away when he realized that she was naked. But she had nice tattoos on her... well. Becky grabbed a shirt and pants and left the room. 

“So, what do you want?” Loki asked again and leaned back against the wall behind him. 

“There was a guy here a few days ago. He wanted to talk to Steve. Did you know that guy?” Thor asked straightforward. It wasn't advisable to try it with pleasantries.

“Sure,” he answered and his grin broadened. But he didn't say him the name. 

“I need to know his name,” Thor said. He tried to suppress his anger but it was difficult. 

“Why?” Loki wanted to know. Inwardly Thor counted to ten. In French. 

“Because I need to talk to him,” he said. Loki cocked his head and scrutinized him for a very long moment before he took a deep breath. 

And then he asked, “Why?” again. 

Thor deliberated if he should tell him the truth or if he should lie but Loki always knew when he lied. But on the other hand, he didn't want him to know why he needed to talk to the guy. 

“When Becky is back I'll throw you out,” Loki said and pretended to yawn.

“It's for a friend. Clint.” 

“As in Roger's boyfriend?” 

“Yes, this Clint,” Thor finally admitted. Loki started to smirk again.

“Why would I want to do something to help him?” He asked. 

“Maybe you want to pretend to be a decent human being every now and then?” Thor snapped. Loki's smirk broadened. 

“Thor, Thor, Thor,” he shook his head. “You want something from me. So maybe _you_ try to pretend you want something from me.” 

Thor was confused. He had no idea what he wanted. 

“Father's birthday. I have no desire to be there. You are going to excuse me and I tell you the guy's name.” 

“But it's father's sixtieth birthday and the whole family...” Thor started but Loki cut him short with a gesture with his hand. 

“I don't care about this family. I don't want to be there and that's it. It's your decision. Do you want to know the name or not?” He snapped.

Thor sighed. And then he nodded. “All right. I will find an excuse.” 

And in an instant Loki's grin was back. “See? That wasn't so difficult, _brother_. The man's name is Kurt Wagner. He's in my medieval literature class.” 

“Thank you,” Thor said and opened his mouth but they got interrupted by Becky who came back with two paper cups with coffee in her hands. 

“No, brother. _I_ have to thank _you_. You've saved my life.” Loki grinned. Thor wanted to give him a piece of his mind but then the blonde girl climbed back into the bed to Loki and apparently he was dismissed. He glared at Loki one last time before he left the room. Outside he grabbed his phone and sent Natasha a message with the name. And he really hoped it was a helpful information. He looked at the closed door, sighed and went to his own class.


	41. Why does everyone want to talk about Barton with me?

“Kurt!” Bucky yelled when he saw the guy they searched leave the building. Unfortunately that moment more people left the building and a girl went to him and kissed him on his cheek. “Hey, Kurt!” Bucky tried again and this time the young man looked up, turned his head, said something to the girl beside him and turned around completely. He looked questioningly at him and Nat. The girl, a cute Asian with long black hair, turned around as well. 

He and Nat walked over to them and when they were close enough the guy cocked his head.

“Do I know you?” He asked with a foreign accent. 

“No, probably not. We’re Clint’s friends, Clint Barton, you know,” Bucky said the guy nodded.

“Of course I know Clint, we work together,” he said. 

“We know that you talked to Steve a few days ago and…” Natasha started but Kurt interrupted her with his raised finger and turned to the girl beside him. 

“Sway, babe, can you… can we…” He said and she raised a brow.

“Talk alone with them?” She asked and Kurt shrugged with a small, sheepish smile. “Yeah, of course,” she said then and walked over to a bench, sat down, grabbed her phone and typed something on it. 

“Why the heck does everyone want to talk about Clint with me lately?” He sighed and looked at the two of them. 

“Steve?” Nat asked and he nodded. 

“You’ve been in his room,” Bucky asked and Kurt nodded. “What happened?” 

“Nothing. We talked and drank coffee and then I left,” he said with a sigh. “He asked me… how much did Clint tell you about our job?” 

“We know what you do,” Natasha said and Kurt nodded again. 

“Okay, Steve asked me how that works with the payment and I told him. That’s it,” Kurt said. 

“Nothing else?” Bucky asked and Kurt raised a brow. 

“What? You think… you think me and… and Steve? What? No! God, no! First I’m together with Sway… Suzanne,” he said and pointed with his chin at the Asian girl, “and then, I’m not gay.” 

“You’re… what?” Bucky blurted and stared at the other guy disbelievingly. “But you work in a…” he wanted to add ‘gay club’ but Kurt stopped him before he could actually say it. 

“Gay for pay,” he grinned and shrugged. 

“And…” Natasha looked at the girl. 

“Yes, she knows. She doesn’t like it but she also knows that it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a job, nothing more. Believe me, Steve’s virtue was perfectly safe with me.” 

“So, you only talked and left,” Bucky said and Kurt nodded again. “What exactly did Steve say?” 

“Yeah, well… he was really interested in how the payment works. He didn’t tell me why he wanted to know but I think he’s searching for a way to get Clint out of the club without him losing his place here,” he said. “He didn’t tell me about his plans, though, but I’m pretty sure he has an idea. He looked like someone with an idea.” He shrugged. 

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said and Kurt went to his girlfriend. 

“Okay, what do you think?” Natasha said as soon as he was out of earshot. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky sighed. He wiped his face with his hand and looked around if someone could hear them. “If Steve really wanted to get him out he needed money and…” He stopped himself and both looked at each other. 

“Stark!” They said in unison. 

Natasha reached for her phone and dialed, waited, cursed and put her phone away. 

“What?” Bucky asked and she cursed again, this time in Russian. 

“Voicemail,” she said and pressed her lips together. 

“What are we doing now?” Bucky asked and Natasha shook her head. 

“We need to talk to them. And then we hit them on the head to knock some sense into them.” 

“Good idea,” Bucky said and laughed.


	42. I could say I told you so

Phil sighed when he saw Steve sitting in a booth in the bar. It was the same bar Steve had dragged him into the last time he needed to talk and it was the same booth. 

He went to the bartender, ordered two beers and went with the bottles in one hand over to Steve. He slid onto the seat opposite of him, shoved one of the bottles over to him and took a long sip from his own beer. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve slurred after a long moment of quietness. He glared at the bottle and didn’t even bother to look up. Phil wasn’t sure if he even was aware who sat opposite of him. 

“Can’t do that,” he said after a while and now Steve did look up, just for a tiny second. 

“What do you want, Phil,” he said, emptied the bottle of beer he had had in front of him and took the one Phil had brought. 

“I don’t know. This is a bar. I thought I just could sit here for a while and drink a beer with a friend,” he said with a shrug and a slightly sarcastic tone in his voice. 

“Are you sure? Better alone than in bad company,” he grumbled into his beard. 

“Steve…” Phil started but Steve shook his head. 

“God, I fucked it up,” he muttered and put his head onto the table. 

“You tried to talk to him?” He wanted to know. Steve raised his head for a second, glared at him and let it drop down again. 

“He doesn’t answer his phone when I call him,” he mumbled into the table surface. “He doesn’t answer when I text him and when I knock at his door Bruce sends me away.” 

Phil took a deep breath. “Well, I could say I told you so,” he said and then he took a long sip from his bottle. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you told me so,” Steve said and he sounded so unusual sarcastic. Phil raised a brow. 

“Okay, Steve. You fucked it up. You knew about Clint’s job and didn’t tell him and then he found out. But on the other hand, he didn’t tell you about the fact that he had sex with lots of guys for money as well.” 

Steve looked up again. “That’s something completely different,” he snorted. 

“Well, you both had secrets, so… where’s the difference?” Phil asked. Steve said up straight and glared once more at him. 

“The difference is…” Steve started but Phil cut him off with a gesture with his hand. 

“Bullshit!” Phil said, maybe a little more harsh than intended. “You both kept secrets from each other. And now you have two options. A, you can sit here, drink and mope or B, you can get over it and make a fresh start.” 

“That’s what I tried, Phil! But he doesn’t talk to me!” He let his head drop onto the table surface again. 

“Then make it happen!” Phil said, emptied his bottle and rose. “But do it before it’s too late, Steve.”


	43. Are you running away?

Clint just threw his bag into the trunk and slammed the lid shut when a hand grabbed his arm. He whirled around and glared at the owner of said hand. 

“What are you up to?” Bucky snapped when Clint shook his hand off of his arm. He reached for his bowcase but Barnes was faster. He grabbed it and held it out of Clint’s reach.

“What the fuck!” He snapped and tried to get the bowcase but Bucky’s hand on his chest held him away. “Give me my bow!” 

“No,” Bucky spat now and nodded with his chin at the car he stood beside. “Are you running away?” 

“None of your damn business, Barnes,” he growled and tried to get his bowcase again but once more Barnes kept it out of his reach. “What the fuck!” He repeated.

“Are. You. Trying. To. Run. Away?” 

“None. Of. Your. Fucking. Business!” Clint snapped.

“Hey, are you done with your lovers’ quarrel? I want to drive.” The guy behind the wheel poked his head out of the window of his car and glared angrily at them. 

“Yes, I’m done,” Clint said the same moment Bucky said, “No, he stays here.” 

“You know what? Fuck you!” The guy said, started the engine and drove away. Clint spun around and tried to run after him. 

“My bag!” He screamed but the guy didn’t even look in the rearview mirror. “Fucker has my bag in his trunk!” The car drove around the corner and was gone. 

“Shit,” Bucky came over to him and stood beside him. “Uhm… sorry,” he said then when Clint glared once more again.

“Fuck!” Clint threw his hands in the air before he put both hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths. “Fuck,” he muttered again. “Fucker has my clothes and my stuff.” 

“Clint,” Bucky started and placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder but he shrugged it off. 

“Fuck!” He screamed again. 

“Come on, Clint, we…” Bucky said and this time Clint whirled around and pointed his finger into his face. 

“That’s all your fault,” he snapped. 

“Yeah!” Bucky shoved his finger away and made a step in his direction, stood very close and glared at him now. “Because I’m the one who tried to chicken out!”

“I… what? I didn’t try to _chicken out_ ,” he said and made air-quotes. “I…” 

“What?” Bucky asked and made another step in his direction.

“I just need some time to think,” Clint admitted finally. “Alone.”

“Yeah, and that’s what we call _’chicken out’_.” He folded his arms over his chest. And Clint eventually deflated. He just sat down where he stood, in the middle of the parking ground, between lots of cars. Bucky sighed and sat down beside him. 

“Why didn’t he just talk to me?” Clint asked after a while and looked at Bucky. The other man kept quiet for a long moment but then he took a breath. 

“You didn’t talk to him, either,” Bucky said and when Clint opened his mouth to complain he cut him short and continued. “Your job,” Bucky said. “You’re angry because he found out about it and didn’t tell you. But you could’ve told him about it and you chose not to do it.” 

“That’s something different,” Clint snapped. Bucky snorted. “And then there was the guy in his room,” he added.

“Do you really, honestly, believe Steven Rogers could betray you?” Bucky asked and looked at him. “This guy is unable to lie and if he would cheat on you, you would know it. Everyone knows that he can’t lie.” 

Clint dropped back, lay on the ground and stared at the sky. “And what am I supposed to do now? It’s all so fucked up. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even want to talk to me ever again after everything I said to him.” 

“Yeah, pretty sure. And that’s why he mopes around for days now,” Bucky snorted. 

“He mopes around?” Clint looked up at him and Bucky slapped his forehead. 

“Yes, he does,” he said and sighed. “Maybe you man up at one point, go to him and talk to him?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Clint sighed and let his head drop back onto the ground. But just when he wanted to continue they heard a car. It was the guy who left a few minutes ago, stopped with squealing tires, left his car, opened the trunk and threw Clint’s bag at them. 

“You forgot something!” He snarled, got back behind the wheel and drove off. 

“See, everything’s going to be fine,” Bucky said after a long moment. Clint looked at him and - in the blink of an eye - both men started to giggle and then to laugh. 

“Idiot,” Clint giggled and Bucky slapped his arm again but with a broad grin on his face. 

“Talk to him, for fuck’s sake!”

“Yeah, maybe I will.”


	44. I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse

“Hey, Barton,” Tony called and Clint sighed. He had just aimed at the target but when he heard the other man’s voice he released and the arrow hit the target, just not dead center. It was two inches too far to the right. 

“Shit,” he cursed and put the bow down and pinched the bridge of his nose. He came to the table at the side where he had his case and the rest of his stuff, where Tony waited for him. 

“Sorry, didn’t want to startle you,” he said. Clint realized immediately that the usual smirk wasn’t there. 

“No problem. What’s up?” He looked warily. He was pretty sure that Tony wasn’t here to talk to him about Steve but the earnestness made him worry nevertheless. 

“Do you have a few minutes?” Tony asked and when Clint nodded he gestured at the bleachers. Together they went over and Tony sat down. “I have an offer for you,” he said then. 

Clint knitted his brows and tilted his head. “I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse,” he said then, his voice disguised to sound like Don Vito Corleone.

Clint sighed but sat down as well. “Shoot,” he said. 

“No, I want you to shoot,” Tony said cryptically. “Namely for the newly founded Stark Industries archery team.” 

“What?” Clint blurted and stared at his friend disbelievingly.

“You better half showed me a video. Why didn’t you tell anyone that you’re so good?” Tony asked now. 

“I…” Clint had no idea what he should say. “I… I don’t know,” he said then. 

“Rogers talked to my CEO and we agree in that matter. We founded an archery team and we want you as our first member. And team captain.” Tony shrugged. 

“Wait, wait, wait, you want me to…” Clint stopped and stared at him. 

“Listen, I know your current job is dangerous and…” Tony started but this time Clint interrupted him. He jumped up, threw his hands in the air and started to pace.

“Fuck! Is there someone here who doesn’t know about this fucking job?” He spat and he just wanted to rant but now Tony stopped him. He just rose and put a hand over his mouth. 

“I have no idea what you do and I don’t want to know it,” he said and waited till Clint calmed down again. “Rogers only said that your job is dangerous and considering the shiner and the limp you’ve had not long ago then - do not tell him I said that - I agree with him.” 

Tony removed his hand and sat down again. He gestured at the seat beside him and after a long moment Clint flopped down again. “Okay,” he said. 

“Back to topic. Stark Industries sponsors quite a few extraordinary good athletes. And now we want to sponsor you,” he said. “What do you say?” 

“I… I have no idea… it’s… I mean…” Clint stammered.

“Why don’t you just say yes?” Tony said. “After all, it was Rogers who went to Obadiah Stane to find a solution for your problem.” 

“He… he did that?” Clint frowned. 

“Remember the day where I had to cheat you away from your party?” 

“The day he said he forgot his phone,” Clint mumbled. Tony nodded. “He went to your CEO to talk about me?” 

“He worries about you,” Tony said and shrugged again. “And honestly, you’ve been hurt a lot lately. Guess your job isn’t that great.” 

“But I can’t just quit this job, Tony. I have to pay back everything they advanced,” he admitted. Tony pursed his lips. 

“That’s not a problem. We can cover that,” he said but Clint shook his head and wanted to complain. “Consider it a loan.” 

“You really mean that?” Clint asked now. Tony huffed a small laugh. 

“Yes, I really mean that. Look, I let my legal department draw up a contract. You can show it to Coulson’s friend, Maria. She’s studying law as far as I know,” he said. “But I would really love to sponsor you, Clint.” 

“Thanks, Tony,” he said and he really meant it. The older man smiled.

“Don’t thank me, thank your better half. He moved heaven and earth to get you away from your job,” he said and rose.

Clint looked at his feet. He had accused Steve to cheat and he went to find a solution to get him away from his job. Yes, he owed him an apology. But then he looked up at Tony.

“I will not call you boss, though,” he said with a smirk. Tony laughed.

“I guess I can live with that.”


	45. Professor Greary wants to see you

“Okay, what’s your problem?” Bruce huffed, sat back on his chair and turned it around. He had tried to work on his paper but Clint paced in their room for half an hour now. He nibbled at his nails and muttered quietly under his breath. Bruce wore his headphones to listen to some music while writing but Clint’s pacing was distracting. 

“What?” Clint’s head snapped around and he stared at his room mate. 

“If you continue pacing we have a furrow in the floor,” Bruce said. 

Clint turned to look at the floor and Bruce sighed inwardly. “What’s your problem?” He repeated.

Finally Clint flopped down on his bed and buried his face in his cushion. “Everything sucks,” he whined. This time Bruce sighed audible. 

“Talk to him,” he said. Clint removed the cushion and glared at him. 

“And what do I tell him? Hey, Steve. I’ve been the biggest asshole ever, can we start all over again?” 

“Yeah, that would be something to start,” Bruce said. 

“Ha, ha, not funny!” Clint snapped and huffed then. “He went to Tony, Bruce!” He sat up and hugged the cushion. “He and Tony hate each other and Steve went to him. For me! And I? I’ve accused him to… to fuck around.”

“And that’s why you should go to him and apologize,” Bruce said. 

“I know!” He threw the cushion over his face again. “Don’t you think I don’t know that?” He mumbled barely audible. Bruce huffed once more, rolled with his chair over to Clint and removed the cushion. 

“Clint, I know you’re a very intelligent person. But now I will explain it to you as if you were an idiot. Steve loves you and that’s why he swallowed his pride and went to Tony. Maybe you can swallow _your_ pride now, go to _him_ and grovel for his forgiveness?” 

“I’m not sure if he ever wants to talk to me again after everything I said to him,” Clint whined.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Bruce said with a shrug. But just as Clint tried to complain again his phone started to ring. He groaned and searched for the cushion Bruce had thrown away. 

“Don’t you want to answer your phone?” 

“No,” Clint mumbled and sighed. Bruce watched him for another few seconds before he reached for Clint’s phone and pressed the answer button. And then he held the phone to Clint’s ear. 

“What?” Clint snapped and glared angrily at Bruce.

“Hey, Barton. Baker here. Are you available?”

“No, I…” Clint started but Baker interrupted him.

“Professor Greary needs you in the studio,” he said. Clint reached for the phone and held it himself now. He sat up, propped on one elbow, still glaring at Bruce. 

“What, now? I thought it’s only…” he started but once again Baker interrupted him. 

“It’s an exception and you’ll get 100 bucks extra.” 

Clint took a deep breath. “Okay, fine. When…” 

“As soon as possible. She’s waiting here for you,” Baker said.

“Fine. Give me a few, I’m on my way,” he said and quit the call. When Bruce raised a brow he huffed once more. “I need to go to work.” 

“What, now?” Bruce asked and looked at his wristwatch. “It’s almost nine pm!” 

“Yeah, whatever. It's not as if I had something important to do,” Clint sighed and rose. 

“Clint,” Bruce said when he grabbed his sneakers and put them on. He looked up and cocked his head. 

“I know Bruce, I _will_ talk to him.” He grabbed his keys and went to the door. “Soon,” he said and left the room. Out in the corridor he leaned against the wall for a few seconds. Bruce was right, they all were right. He needed to talk to Steve - once again - and he needed to apologize. But now he needed to go to Professor Greary.

***

Ten minutes later Clint opened the door to Professor Greary’s studio. No one was here and only one lamp in the middle of the room shone.

“Professor Greary?” Clint called and walked in. “Baker?” 

“I’m here,” the other man suddenly appeared. Apparently he’s been behind the folding screen. He seemed a little pale and wiped his hands on his shirt. “Professor Greary will be here in a few, you can wait here.” 

“What? She’s not here?” Clint blurted. 

“She’s on her way, Barton. She called me, said she needs you and I should call you. And now, you wait here and I’ll go home,” Baker said. He licked his lips and looked at the door. Clint frowned. 

“Are you shitting me?” Clint asked, his eyes squinted.

“No, she just had had a problem with her car. She’s here in a few. But I have to go now. You wait here,” Baker said and this time he didn’t wait for Clint to respond, this time he turned and went to the door. It slammed shut only a few seconds later. Clint sighed and sat down on one of the chairs the students usually used to sit behind their easels. 

It didn’t take too long and he could hear the door again. And then he paled when he heard the voice. “Professor Greary? Your assistant, Mr. Baker, said you wanted to talk to me?” 

Steve walked into the studio, looked around… and saw Clint. He stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. Clint rose and swallowed. 

“Hi,” he said, too. And then they both heard someone lock the door from the outside.


	46. What are we doing here?

“Nat!” Clint yelled and pounded with his fist against the door. “Nat! I know for sure it’s been you! Open the fucking door!” 

“Clint,” Steve said calmly behind him but Clint continued to pound the door and to yell at Nat. “Clint,” he repeated and this time he put a hand on his shoulder. Clint stopped to move in an instant, he freezed literally. “Clint,” Steve said for the third time and he moved the other man around so he had to face him. But Clint looked away.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly. Clint shook his head.

“I’m… I’m not ready, yet,” he mumbled. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve…” Steve started but Clint shook his head and interrupted him. 

“No, that… that was not what I meant,” he said and then he sighed. “I… I had a plan how this should… you know… happen.” 

“A plan?” Steve seemed confused. 

“Yes, I… I…” Clint stopped, sighed and slid down along the wall to sit at the floor, his back leaning against the locked door. “I wanted to apologize but… not like this!” 

Steve looked at him for a long moment before he sat down beside him. “You don’t need to apologize. I…” 

“No, Steve. I fucked it up. I… I’ve been jealous and irrational and… you did something nice for me to surprise me and I… I… god, I’m such a failure,” he muttered.

“Will you let me say something now?” Steve said Clint looked at him, his brows furrowed but he nodded. 

“First, you’re not a failure.” Clint wanted to protest but Steve raised a hand and stopped him. “My turn.” When Clint closed his mouth with an audible click, Steve sighed. He turned to sit cross-legged, tailor-fashion, opposite of Clint, reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with Clint’s. 

“I know I acted like a creep, followed you and all that, but… I… I’ve told you I was fascinated the first time I saw you but I always thought that you and… and Natasha… you know. You always sticked together. And then I saw that she was with Barnes and you… I followed you to find out if you are… if you are single or…” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “And then I was worried,” he admitted. Clint opened his mouth again but Steve shook his head once more. 

“I know it’s creepy, don’t think I don’t know that, but…” He blushed even more. “I got the chance to get inside of the club and I saw you fight and have sex and I was jealous because it was another guy and turned on and worried and… I had no idea what I could say to you and so I just… I just kept quiet,” he said and looked at their hands. 

“I should’ve told you, Steve,” Clint said quietly. “I should’ve talked to you before you… before we…” He took a deep breath. “Before you started a relationship with me.” 

Suddenly, out of the blue, Steve started to chuckle. When Clint furrowed his brows and cocked his head he gestured around. “What are we doing here?” 

“I… I don’t understand…” Clint said, the wrinkle between his eyes really prominent right now. 

“Our friends have locked us in and we’re sitting here and wallow in self-pity,” he said with a grin. “But… now that all the facts are on the table… they are on the table, right?” Clint nodded and Steve continued, “... now that the facts are on the table… what do you think about…” 

“... we forget everything that happened before and start anew?” Clint interrupted him with a tiny smile on his lips.

“That was, what I wanted to say,” Steve nodded. 

“I know,” Clint said and smiled. He cocked his head for a second and then a broad smile appeared on his face. He removed his hand out of Steve’s, wiped it on his pants and then he held it out, “Hi, my name is Clint Barton. I think you’re cute. You wanna go for a coffee with me?” 

Steve took his hand with a grin and shook it. “Hi, Steve Rogers and I’d love to go for a coffee with you.”


	47. Let them out

Johnny Baker was visibly nervous. Surrounded by Barton’s and Rogers’ friends he stood outside of the studio and shifted from one feet to the other. He looked around and hoped that Professor Greary wouldn’t see them. Sometimes she decided to ply her own art. After all, she was a well-known, famous sculptor and whenever she was inspired she came over to work on her own _stuff_. 

“Can I…” he wanted to ask but Barnes - his arms folded over his chest - shook his head.

“No,” he said and Johnny winced. He couldn’t lose his job, he needed it and to be Professor Greary’s TA was one of the best jobs he ever had. 

“But…” he started again but this time it was the other Odinson, Loki’s brother Thor, who shook his head.

“You will stay,” he said. Johnny swallowed. He wasn’t short but in comparison to this guy he was a dwarf and he was pretty sure that one hit of his enormous fists would kill him immediately. And so he just nodded, looked around again and licked his lips nervously. Barton and Rogers were in there for almost an hour now and Barton had stopped banging against the door. And now they waited for them. 

Stark glared at his phone every five minutes until his red-haired girlfriend huffed and took it away. He wanted to complain when they heard one of them knock at the door again. 

“We’re done, you can let us come out,” Barton yelled. Barnes looked at his scary girlfriend and cocked his head.

“Do we believe him?” He wanted to know and Romanov shrugged. 

“How do we know you actually talked?” She asked. 

“You could let us come out and we can prove it?” Barton yelled back.

“Rogers?” Stark called now and his girlfriend slapped his arm whereupon he yelped and rubbed his arm. Johnny made a step backwards but stopped when he bumped into someone. Odinson stood behind him now and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it warningly and he swallowed and nodded frantically. He understood. 

“We talked,” Rogers’ voice answered from inside of the studio. It was Carter who nodded now. 

“Okay, let them out. Steve’s unable to lie. He would burst in flames immediately and since there are no flames…” she said and a few of the other girls giggled. 

“Can I?” Johnny had grabbed the keys and let them jingle in his hands.

“Yes, let them out,” that one guy with the bland expression said. Odinson removed his hand but shoved him forward and Johnny almost stumbled. That guy had no idea how strong he was. But Johnny gathered himself and went to the door and unlocked it. He opened it and inside where Barton and Rogers, both grinning like loons. Johnny was not an idiot, he could see their _swollen_ lips and their disarranged clothes.

“Oh god,” he muttered when both left the studio, still grinning. Their friends all started to talk at once and they wanted to know what happened inside and asked for details.

“Can I go now?” He said and looked at Barnes but the guy just shook his head. “Isn’t there something you want to tell them?” 

“What? Me? Not that I know of,” he said. Barnes only raised a brow. 

“Are you sure?” Romanov said beside him and he almost jumped out of his skin. 

“I… I… have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled now. 

“Really?” Barnes asked again. And when Odinson looked in his direction now, too, he sighed and licked his lips.

“Okay, okay,” he said and turned around. “Barton, Rogers,” he said. It became quiet in an instant and everyone turned to look at him. Rogers wrapped his arm possessively around Barton’s waist and glared at him. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for causing trouble by spreading rumors.” 

“And?” Rogers said now. 

“I will leave you two alone. Well, as long as it doesn’t concern Professor Greary’s class.” 

“Okay, accepted” Barton said. And they turned back to their friends.

“The next time you spread rumors I’m going to break your neck,” Romanov whispered in his ear from behind. Johnny nodded, swallowed… and left hurriedly after locking the studio again. It was better for his health to keep distance to these maniacs, he knew that now.


	48. I hope you won’t forget David Cooper.

“Are you sure about this?” Clint asked and looked at Steve nervously. He sat beside him in Natasha’s car and reached over to take Clint’s hand when he sensed his nervousness. 

“Of course I am,” he said and smiled reassuringly. Clint let his eyes roam over the building in front of him again before he turned to Steve. His smile and the gentle squeeze of his hand let him finally breathe out audibly. 

“Okay then, let’s go,” Clint said and opened the door. Together with Steve he went to the entrance door and knocked. At this time not many people were here and that’s why people usually knocked and a bouncer opened to check their membership cards. It took only a few seconds and the door went open. 

The man, Wayne, recognized Clint immediately but he scrutinized Steve with an unreadable expression. But then he turned back to him, Clint. “It’s not your shift today,” he said. “And who’s this?” He pointed with his thumb at Steve.

“We need to talk to Mr. Colby,” Clint said. Wayne raised a brow and cocked his head. 

“Really?” He said and folded his arms in front of his chest. He was taller than Steve by a head and looked really threatening right now. “Does he know that?” 

“Yes,” Steve said now. “We have an appointment.” Wayne snorted and turned around. 

“Brock,” he called and a smaller, dark-haired man appeared. He was as tall as Steve but in comparison to Wayne he seemed small. Clint knew him, he was the daytime manager, but he seldom had to deal with him. Usually his go-to guy was Dan, the wrestling trainer. 

“Barton,” he said and looked at Steve,too, the same way Wayne had looked at him. “Mr. Colby is awaiting you… and your friend.” He stepped aside and both, he and Steve, could enter. He led them up the stairs and then to the right. Clint had been up here only once, that time where he met Mr. Colby for the first time. Brock went to a door with a keypad beside it at the wall, typed in a few numbers and the door unlocked. Behind it the surrounding changed drastically. Suddenly it was all office and business, the soft carpets, the lush interior from the guest section was gone. 

Brock went to one of the doors, knocked and opened it after waiting three seconds.

The office was big and modern, a desk with a laptop and some files on it were on the right side, on the left was a couch with a small coffee table and two armchairs. A huge painting hung behind it so that you could look at it while sitting behind the desk. Steve stared at it for a long moment before he could avert his eyes and turn them back to the man sitting in the desk chair. Brock didn’t leave, he went to one of the armchairs, turned it around and sat down while the man - a pretty ordinary guy in his mid-fifties with graying hair and a thin beard - gestured at the two chairs in front of his desk. 

“You wanted to talk about your contract, Mr. Barton,” he said straightforward. 

“Yes,” Clint said and licked his lips. “I… I want to quit.” Steve brushed his finger gently against Clint’s and that was the reassurance he needed. “I’m here to quit.” He repeated. Mr. Colby scrutinized him for a long moment but then he nodded. 

“We’ve talked about this option, right?” He pressed the fingers of both hands against each other. 

“Yes, I have to repay the money you payed the college and…” He started.

“... the non-disclosure agreement,” Mr. Colby interrupted him. “Everything you’ve seen or heard here is confidential. You will never - and I mean never - talk to anyone about anything, especially not about the patrons here,” he added.

“Of course,” Clint nodded and felt Steve’s fingers brush against his once again. Mr. Colby took a deep breath.

“Very well,” he said, leaned forward to take one of the files, opened it, took a small piece of paper and wrote something on it. He folded it, shoved it over his desk till it lay in front of Clint. “That’s the sum we’re talking about,” he said then. Before Clint could take the paper, Steve took it, opened it and Clint saw his eyes widen slightly. But then he reached into the pocket of his jacket, took out the blank check Tony had given him when he had signed his contract with Stark Industries two days ago, filled in the numbers and shoved it over the desk to Mr. Colby. The man raised a brow but he took the check. “Stark Industries?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Steve said now. “His new sponsor.” 

Mr. Colby nodded slowly. “Mazel tov!”

“Thank you,” Clint said and looked around. “So…” Mr. Colby turned his chair a little bit and gestured at the door without saying another word. Brock rose, went to it and opened it and they both knew they were dismissed. 

They were almost out in the corridor when they heard Mr. Colby’s voice again. “Mr. Barton,” he said and Clint turned around. “I hope you won’t forget David Cooper.” 

Clint’s eyes widened. David Cooper worked here until he had an accident with his car and needs a wheelchair now. But Mr. Colby’s smile said it wasn’t an accident. Clint swallowed and reached for Steve’s hand. 

“No, I won’t forget that,” he said. Colby nodded and this time they were dismissed for good. 

“What was that?” Steve asked when the door fell shut behind them and Clint took a deep breath. 

“It was…” Clint started but when Wayne came out of the door he closed his mouth. He went to Natasha’s car and climbed behind the wheel and Steve followed him. He looked at the entrance again where Wayne leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. 

“David Cooper worked here and… and he _talked_ ,” Clint said. And then his eyes widened again. “Phil knows, right? Who else knows about this? No one can talk about it! They have to forget about this club and… and everything. They’re going to kill me if… if someone talks,” he started to ramble. 

“Calm down, Clint. We talk to them, we tell them that they have to keep their mouths shut. No one will tell anything.” 

“Cooper… he talked… and now he’s in a wheelchair, he barely survived.” Clint swallowed. 

“No one will harm you. You’re out there and… no one will talk. It’s over, Clint.” Steve took Clint’s hand and kissed it. 

“Yes, it’s over,” he whispered and finally he allowed himself to smile. Clint leaned over to Steve and put his hand behind his neck when he kissed him, slow, sensual and passionate. “It’s over.”


	49. Wanna come to my place?

“Hey,” Clint said, grinned and handed Steve a bottle of beer before he straddled his lap. He sat on a couch in Tony’s huge living room and grinned happily at him. Of course Tony didn’t live in an ordinary dorm room, no, Tony had rented himself a house right outside of the campus. And this afternoon he - and Pepper - had invited him and all of their friends over for a party after introducing him officially as new member of Stark Industries archery team. Clint even got a set of trainings and tournament clothes with the SI logo on it. 

“Hey,” Steve whispered and wrapped his arm around Clint’s waist. He put the beer down on the table beside the couch and pulled his head down. Slowly he pressed his lips against Clint’s, touched his lips with his tongue and when he opened his mouth Steve let his tongue slide in. For a moment their tongues struggled for dominance and with a grin Clint bit his lower lip slightly. 

“Hey,” Clint said again. 

“So, how does it feel to be free?” Steve grinned and let his hand wander up along Clint’s leg. 

“Free? I don’t know,” he cocked his head as if he deliberated. “My ass belongs to Tony now.” 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. He can have your bow and your aim but this ass,” Steve grabbed Clint’s butt with both hands, “belongs to me.” 

“Please! Get a room!” Tony huffed and flopped down beside them. 

“You can look the other way, Stark,” Clint said with a smirk. 

“Aww, Barton. You wound me. That’s no way to speak to your boss.” Tony grinned. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Clint mockingly saluted but still stayed where he was. “What do you want, Tony? I thought this is supposed to be a party?” 

“Oh, look at Darcy and Maria,” Tony said and pointed at the two girls, making out on a low couch. “This is definitely more an orgy than a party. Wait, is that Peggy Carter canoodling with Coulson? How did he manage that?” 

“Yeah, but…” Clint started again. Steve followed their tiny _argument_ quietly, but still smiling. 

“Barton, for once I’m not here for you,” Tony eventually huffed, interrupting him. He reached into his pocket, fetched a small, rectangular box and gave it Steve. “I thought I should give this to you. And… well… thanks for a great investment.” 

Steve’s brows hit his hairline and he stared at Tony open-mouthed. “Relax, no need to get an aneurism,” Tony said, flashed them one of his brilliant smiles and rose again. “I need to talk to Bruce… if I can drag him away from Betty for a moment or two,” he added grumbling. 

But when Clint turned back to kissing Steve, Tony called over his shoulder, “Get a room!”

“Fuck off, Stark!” Clint grinned and rubbed his crotch against Steve’s. 

“Oh god, I’m going blind,” Tony muttered and hurried away. Steve chuckled quietly but then he looked at the box Tony had given him. 

“Do you think it will explode when I open it?” 

“Nah,” Clint said and shook his head. “He won’t kill his _new investment_.” He made air-quotes with both hands. “Okay, open it,” he nudged him and Steve sighed. But after another quick peck on his lips he opened it. 

“Wow!” Steve blurted as soon as he saw what was inside. It was a brand new StarkPhone. “Wow!” 

“That’s really cool,” Clint said. He turned to look at Tony who just talked to Bruce but apparently he sensed Clint’s eyes on his because he turned his head. Clint mouthed ‘Thank you’ in his direction. Tony nodded with smirk before Bruce drew his attention back to him. “What do you think, would they notice if we sneak away?” 

“No, probably not,” Steve shook his head. 

Clint looked over at Bruce. “Hey, my room mate is not at home. Wanna come to my place?” He asked. Steve’s grin became predatory and he grabbed Clint around his waist and rose together with him. Clint barely managed to wrap his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist to not fall down. Thor, who saw this maneuver, laughed while Jane, who stood beside him, blushed when Steve carried him away. And when Natasha looked in their direction Clint waved at her and Bucky, happily grinning. He couldn’t see her rolling her eyes anymore because the door fell shut already.

***

Loki lay on his bed and smoked a joint. He was aware that smoking wasn’t allowed in the rooms but he couldn’t care less. He had to throw out Becky half an hour ago and now he was frustrated. The girl had known that it was a sex-only arrangement, he had told her from the very first day he had hooked up with her. But she became too clingy lately and so he had thrown her out after fucking her. She had yelled at him, hit him and then she had started to cry. Luckily he didn’t give a damn about her _feelings_. It was supposed to be just fun and she broke the rules.

When she had left the room he flopped down on his bed buck naked and glared at the ceiling angrily before he went to his dash in the nightstand, rolled a spliff and lighted it. But just when he had taken the first drag someone knocked at the door. 

Loki didn’t bother with clothes. It was his room - well, his and Steve’s - and if someone had a problem with him being naked then they could go and fuck themselves. He opened the door only to find a curly haired guy with glasses outside. 

“Yes?” He snapped and the guy shifted from one feet to the other. 

“Uhm… hi. Are you Loki?” He asked and scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yes,” Loki said again and folded his arms over his chest. “And you are?” 

“Bruce. I’m a friend of Clint and Steve,” the guy said. 

“Steve’s not here,” Loki said and wanted to slam the door shut but the guy already had a foot in the door. 

“I know, that’s why _I_ am here,” Bruce said. Loki opened the door again and huffed. 

“And what do you want?” He asked and glared at the man outside of his room. 

“Sleeping,” he said and pointed at Steve’s bed. Loki’s brows hit his hairline. 

“Excuse me?” He blurted. He’d expected a lot of things but not that.

“Listen, man,” Bruce sighed. “My roommate and your roommate are currently in my room, screwing like bunnies and I’m tired. Steve won’t be back until… I don’t know… but his bed is empty.” 

“You’re kidding!” Loki burst out but the guy seemed to have had enough of this conversation and he just shoved him away and strolled into the room. “Hey!” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t snore,” Bruce said and shrugged out of his jacket. Loki stared at him for a long moment, watched him unlaceing his shoes and sitting down on Steve’s bed. “Is that… is that pot I’m smelling?” He suddenly sat up and looked at the ashtray on Loki’s nightstand. 

“Do you have a problem with it? After all, _you_ just entered _my_ room,” Loki snapped. 

“No, it’s just… it’s good shit,” Bruce grinned. Loki raised a brow and sat down on his own bed, took a drag from his joint and looked at his involuntary roommate. 

“You smoke pot?” He asked and Bruce blushed. He shrugged out of his shirt.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Keeps me grounded.” 

Loki looked at his joint, at Bruce and at his joint again before he sighed. “You want some?” Bruce looked up, deliberated but then he smiled. 

“Sure, why not,” he said. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad as he had thought it would be.This guy, Bruce, seemed to be more fun than Steve.


	50. Last knot tied

Jasper was drunk. He knew he was drunk since he couldn’t stop grinning. The party at Tony’s house wasn’t over yet but he knew his limits, he had learned them the hard way after one particularly bad blackout. And so he had left the party as soon as he had reached his limit. 

He stumbled over the campus grounds to go back to his dorm, quietly singing and occasionally giggling when he heard a noise. 

Jasper stopped dead in his tracks and looked around but he couldn’t see anything out of order. He frowned and strained his ears and then he could hear it again. Someone sobbed. 

“Hello?” Jasper called and looked around again. The sobbing stopped immediately and for a brief moment he thought he had seen someone with blond hair before hiding behind one of the hatches.

“Hey!” He called again. “Hey, uhm…” He walked in the direction where he had heard the sobbing, went around the hatch to see a blond woman sitting on a bench, her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook violently. 

“Hey,” Jasper said quietly and went to her. “Is… is everything all right?” He asked and made another step in her direction. 

“Does it look like everything is all right?” She snapped, turned her head and glared at him. And now he recognized her. It was Becky. 

“Sorry, I… I…” Jasper stammered and made the next step in her direction. 

“Fucking Bastard,” Becky muttered. “Goddamn son of a whore!”

“Me?” Jasper asked dumbfounded. Becky’s head snapped around again. She looked at him as if she just realized that he was here.

“What?” She asked. 

“Did you just call me…” Jasper started but closed his mouth when he saw Becky’s angry expression. 

“No! I… I mean that asshole Loki!” She eventually spat. 

“Oh,” Jasper said and looked at her for a long moment. “What… uhm… what did he do?” Jasper closed the distance and sat down as well but he left a _huge_ gap between himself and her. 

“He’s a fucking bastard! A lying snake!” 

“What... what did he do?” Jasper repeated and he felt the dizziness in his head disappear slowly. 

Becky glared at him for a very long moment, deliberating… and then she started to cry again. Jasper reached for one of the soft tissues he had in his pocket and gave it to her. “Here,” he said and slid closer a few inches. Becky wiped her nose and her eyes and her shoulders twitched. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled. 

“Are… are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Jasper asked after another long moment and moved closer another few inches. Becky looked up.

“What?” She asked, baffled and confused.

“Loki… did he… did he hurt you?” 

“What?” She asked again and this time she straightened her back. “No, no… he…” She just started to cry again. Jasper slid closer once more and sat beside her now. He gave her another, clean soft tissue and she blew her nose again. “He… he…” Becky sobbed and turned to Jasper now. And without warning she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his shirt. 

“Oh… uhm… uh…” Jasper was baffled but then he put his left arm carefully around her and offered Becky the comfort she just needed. He held her for a very long moment and the young woman weeped herself out. 

“He threw me out… after I told him that I _like_ him,” she finally whispered. “That fucking, self-absorbed asshole… he…” She pressed her lips tight together and Jasper felt the anger in his chest. How could anyone reject Becky? She was cute and nice and cute… yes, she was so cute, it counted twice. And Loki? He would punch him the next time he met him. How could anyone hurt Becky?

“You… uhm… you look like you could do with a coffee. There’s this coffee shop that’s open all night and… you look like you need some caffeine,” Jasper suggested carefully. This time Becky looked up and scrutinized him. 

“Why are you doing this?” She suddenly asked and moved back an inch.

“What?”Jasper’s eyes went wide. He hoped he didn’t fuck this up before there even was something to fuck up.

“Why are you being so nice?” Her voice sounded suspicious right now and knitted her brows. 

“It’s… you just looked so upset and I…” He wiped over his face with one hand. “I just want to help you.” 

“But… why?” Becky demanded again. 

“Maybe I’m just a nice guy?” Jasper said and raised one of his shoulders for a brief moment. She scrutinized him intently, her eyes still red from crying, but in Jasper’s eyes she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and when she eventually nodded and smiled at him his heart made a somersault in his chest. 

“Okay, I’d like to have a coffee with you,” she said and rose. “What’s your name, Mr. Nice Guy?” 

“Jasper,” he said happily and went with the woman of his dreams to have coffee at oh-dark-thirty. 

And this moment Jasper was the happiest man in the world, yes, even happier than Clint and Steve who finally had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! Here we are, at the end of the story! Finally :D Took me some time but it was always fun to write and I hope you had as much fun to read it!   
> So, I wanted to thank all of you for reading, for the kudos and the lovely comments :D

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)


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